


Born of Scorn

by owleyes37



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Cussing, Human Lance (Voltron), Human Lotor (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Merman Shiro, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Protective Lance (Voltron), Rape/Non-con Elements, Tags May Change, mermaid au, merman Keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-08-29 02:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16735251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owleyes37/pseuds/owleyes37
Summary: Mermaid UAKeith's POV“It’s going for the exit!”“Drop the net!”Voices carry over the wind. I panic. Above me, a net falls down the canyon wall, not over me as I expected, but weights carry it down and I realize too late that they’re trying to block my exit. I dive. The surface above me is suddenly loud. There a lot of them. Humans.





	1. Watchful Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! And welcome to my contribution to the mermaid au. I'm stepping out of my comfort zone a bit by writing this in 1st person pov. If you see anywhere that I slip up or you see a mistake please let me know. I don't have a beta for this so I know I'll probably miss some mistakes. I really hope you like it.
> 
> Also this is a work in progress. I know it's smarter to plot things out, but I kind of tend to write better without a rigid set plan so if you have ideas I'd be open to hear them. :)

I can feel myself smiling, a feeling of peace. And joy. And it’s genuine. It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt like this. I savor it. I hold the hand in mine tighter, staring over the ocean where the sun is sinking lower. I always liked watching the sunset, but it’s nothing next to the sight beside me. He is watching in total awe. His skin is radiant in the warm, fading light, freckles standing out against his cheeks. His hair ripples in the breeze. He smells good. His eyes are beautiful. They are the most electric shade of blue; so alive. I never really had a favorite color growing up, but that blue now holds that title because it is so him. And I love him. And I know he loves me.

That contented feeling and that blue are what stay with me as I wake. It’s not the first time I’ve woken like this, but it’s been a while. Already those things are slipping away, but a part of me has clung to them. They feel so real. Even as I forget the sharper details, I know there is more to them than dreams.

And so starts my day. The shoal is already buzzing to life. The hunting parties are gathering their supplies and heading out into the open waters. The younglings are darting around the seaweed beds. The chirpy laugh of Nyma drifting from the sea shelves, where she and her friends work, some weaving seaweed into baskets and others fashioning spears from driftwood and shark’s teeth.

I spot a patrol team in the distance circling the edge of the shoal, where the seafloor drops away into a chasm. I would normally be on that patrol, but I’d been allowed some time off duty since Shiro’s disappearance, to mourn. Matt was still a little upset to lose his patrol partner for that time, but I know he understands. As he put it, ‘Anyone would need a bit of time to cope in such circumstances.’

I spent a lot of that time searching for clues. Merfolk don’t just disappear unless there had been a major incident with humans, a shark straying too close to the shoal, or another mer-colony encroaching on our territory, but such occurrences were so rare and Shiro is strong. He’s smart and a great fighter. He would be hard to take down by a human, shark, or fellow mer.

But the more questions I ask, the more walls I run into. Today, I planned to track down Plaxum. She was the mer leading the search for Shiro; I’ve been barred to join that search- too attached to the subject or whatever. She’s an expert in tracking the movements of sea animals, including merfolk and sharks. So far she seems to suspect Shiro had an encounter with a shark, but I know it can’t be that simple. If he’d been fatally attacked there would be blood. A lot of blood. And… leftovers. The sharks in this area don’t exactly finish the whole meal. The point is, there would be evidence.

But she was nowhere to be found and when I asked around, I was told she was out investigating. The last we spoke, she mentioned she’s be searching the Wreckyard next. That was the area Shiro used to patrol the most. I darted that direction to join her, but suddenly there was a spear crossing my chest and pulling me back.

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going,” the mer pulled me back, his hulking figure blocking my path.

“Doesn’t it make more sense for me to be helping her? I know she has help, but the more eyes the better and I know Shiro. I can help!”

The mer frowned. “The counsel has already decided. You on that team isn’t helping anyone. You need to rest. That’s why you’ve been given time off from patrol.”

“I can’t just sit around and do nothing while Shiro is out there,” I retorted.

He sighed, looking at me with that look of pity everyone’s been giving me since Shiro’s disappearance. It’s infuriating, but I stifle the boiling rage in my stomach. Pissing this guy off won’t make him any more agreeable. Instead I play along, making my eyes big and pouting my lip a little. It seems to work at first.

“Look… I’ll talk to the captain. Maybe he can petition the counsel to let you help, but right now their decision is to bar you from it.”

“Please,” my fins flare in hope that I can get him to listen. “Please, just give me a few vargas. I won’t stray from the search team. You can have someone watch me. Please.”

“I’m sorry Keith. But I have my orders.”

I deflated, turning back toward the caves. I could feel his eyes on me and though I tried to find another way to circle around the shoal and to the Wreckyard, I noticed the patrols had been shifted to block the way. One spotted me and shadowed me all the way back to the caves. I was left to sit in my cavern and think. And thinking always led me back to my darkest thoughts. The ones that I have tried for so long snuff out: doubts.

There are so many things I need not doubt: my people, the shifts of the current, the waters we call home, the song of the whale- our childhood lullabies. They are constant. I should not doubt them. But I do. I doubt everything.

I remember falling asleep to the sound of whale song and I remember the people beside me. We swam together, hunted together. They are my family- my people. But, I also know they are lies.

I don’t know how I know this- but I am so sure of it. It’s the difference between someone telling me a story and me actually being there. I remember all of it, but somehow the memory is not mine. I feel so dissociated from my past and sometimes even my present that the people I know and love, the ocean waters, the things I know cannot be false, seem like a dream. My people are strangers. I feel foreign in my own scales.

But ever since Shiro disappeared, I know something is off. I’ve always doubted, but now I know someone in my shoal- someone I trust- is lying to me. Has been lying for a long, long time. I can’t ignore my instincts anymore. Something here is very wrong. And I’ve made it my mission to find out what. Because I’m not going to let Shiro slip away. I’m going to find him- and whoever took him away from me.


	2. The Wreckyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finally sneaks out to the Wreckyard to search for clues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's chapter two for you! Let me know what you think and if you see any mistakes! :)  
> This chapter is in Keith's POV.  
> Warning: This chapter will contain gory imagery and implied character death, sort of. You'll see, but I just want to cover my bases.

I hide away in my cavern for most of the day, waiting for the eyes on me to wander off back to their posts. But the patrols are roaming through the center of the shoal and up into the coral beds at the base of the caves today. I can’t help but feel like they’re doing this make sure I don’t swim off somewhere I shouldn’t. I have been caught straying too far from the shoal lately looking for any sign of Shiro.

When the light begins to fade, signaling sunset for the surface world, I swim hesitantly out the mouth of my cavern. The patrols have pulled back, likely circling the edge of the territory, as they usually do at this time. I drift down to the coral, the fish scattering at my approach. With the light beams fading above, my eyes adjust to take in as much light as possible.

In the distance I can see the hunting parties returning with today’s catch. The shoal will be gathering to feast soon. I turn away and swim in the opposite direction. With so many mer in one place, I’m hoping I can slip away without running into anyone. Hopefully it takes everyone a while to realize I’m not there.

The nighttime brings to life another side of the ocean. The darkness in the water makes things seem almost quiet, but by far not empty. Fish still flit about, a few rays gliding along the seafloor. A small reef shark drifts past me. It’s almost the same size as me, its movements long and graceful. I watch as it continues on its way.

This area is in no short supply of sharks, but they’re mostly reef sharks like that one. A shark big enough to take Shiro down would rarely come into this area of the ocean. It’s too enclosed and populated. The open ocean offers more food and room to move; room to grow. I’ve brought this up to Plaxum before, but she never seems to really hear me.

The edge of our territory comes into view, marked by the slope of the outer reef. I turn, keeping it in sight to my right so I can track where I am. I see a few patrols, but I know their movements, being a patrol myself. I avoid them easily. It occurs to me that Matt would definitely notice and speak up if he notices I’m not at tonight’s feast. I hope he’s on patrol tonight so he can’t miss me.

The water becomes murkier as I near the Wreckyard. Silt and algae hang ominously in the water, making it a little harder to breathe. Up ahead, hulking masses rise from the sand: ships long sunken. The sails that hadn’t yet given way to the erosive salt of the ocean drift slowly in the currents. The sound of water shifting through those sails reminds me of breathing, slow and raspy. Masts, driftwood, and debris stick out of the sand like the teeth. Every surface that hadn’t been choked out by barnacles had been taken over by a dark green crust.

This is the place Shiro was most often required to sweep during his shifts. It was where Shiro was supposed to be the night he disappeared. But according to Rolo, his patrol partner, he never showed. The longer Shiro is gone, the more I’m convinced that Rolo was lying. Something happened, and he or someone higher up is covering their tracks. Which would mean Shiro was here. Maybe not anymore, but there had to be some clue left.

I search the seafloor and find nothing but wood beams and trinkets from voyages that never reached their destinations. I zigzag between the wrecks, keeping my distance. This place is creepy enough in day light. It’s moonrise at least, and the little light does reach this deep does nothing to brighten the tone. I pick my way through carefully for a few vargas, finding nothing but an eel and reef sharks. 

The moon is high when I hear violent thrashing in the water. I search the sound out, the echoing walls of the ships tossing the sound and making it a bit harder to find. When I finally discover the source I duck for cover behind the figurehead of ship, fittingly carved in the image of a mermaid. The sand was clouding from the quick movements on the other side of my hiding spot. It takes a moment before I can process what’s happening.

The patrol fleet answer to the Sirens. Sirens are the cultural authority of the shoal. A majority of their duties are a mystery to the common merfolk. But with suspicions like mine, I’ve learned to generally distrust them. Sendek is a high ranking general of the Sirens and the nastiest bastard I know of.

So of course it has to be him hovering at the edge of the sand cloud, his shoulders set in apathy and boredom. He has half a dozen soldiers with him, all looking on the scene with serious faces. I try my best to memorize the face of everyone I see.

“That’s enough,” he says. I choke on the dust drifting my way, my gills working overtime to clear it from my throat.

A soldier darts into view, wrestling something from the cloud, now settling as the thrashing stops. A larger reef shark appears, trying to retrieve the chunk of meat the soldier had taken from its jaws. The soldiers stab at the shark with their spears and it darts away in pursuit of an easier meal.

As the water clears I feel my stomach turn. That chunk of meat has a familiar pattern: purple and spotted, a webbed spine and caudal fin laying limp in the soldiers hands. That was a merman’s tail. Rolo’s tail.

“What now sir,” another soldier asks. He sounds as sick as I feel. He carries a large parcel in his arms and I can guess that it contains something equally gruesome.

“Take them to the quadrant of the yard the team is searching. Don’t hide them too well. We do want them found after all,” Sendek answers, turning my way as he speaks. I duck low, hoping he hasn’t seen me. “And the rest of you, sweep the area. Make sure they get there without any witnesses.”

I barely register those words before soldiers swoop down low among the wrecks. I rush between the gaps in the barnacles and crusted wood. I can hear the soldiers moving behind me, sweeping closer then away and in the other direction. They hadn’t seen me. But I can’t risk being sticking around long enough to be found. So I keep up my sprint until my fins ache and my gills burn.

When I finally make it to my cavern I’m breathing hard, shivering from the adrenaline and disgust at what I just saw. My mind is racing too much for me to make much sense of it. But one thing I do know is that Rolo is dead. No mer could survive the loss of their tail. None that I’ve ever heard of anyway. As the adrenaline ease away I think the whole thing over and over again. Rolo must have known or seen something he shouldn’t. He knew something about Shiro and they killed him for it. And that might be the fate awaiting me if I keep digging. I swallow down another wave of nausea. It doesn’t matter the dangers. I knew there would be consequences to looking further into matters. This was just confirmation.

The next morning there comes news that Plaxum and the search party have found the evidence they’d been looking for. Rolo’s mangled tail has been found in the Wreckyard. Along with Shiro’s arm. I feel sick at the sight of it. It was unquestionably Shiro’s right arm, bitten and chewed as much as Rolo’s tail is. We are told that Rolo went looking for clues of his missing partner alone and was attacked by the same shark that got Shiro.

Nyma is inconsolable. I feel numb. As others give me their condolences, Matt never leaving my side, all I can think of is the detached look on Sendek’s face the night before. It mocks me. As he mutilated the severed limbs of his shoal members, he remained indifferent; like it had been a dull chore he’d been given. 

But there was another detail that nags at me. There hadn’t been any blood. That meant the limbs had been detached elsewhere and fed to the shark for the tooth marks. No one can survive without their tail, but maybe Shiro could survive without his arm? Is it stupid of me to hold out hope that he’s still alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the read so far. :)


	3. Red Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith makes another discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I have another chapter for you! I know that was a quick update, but this is the chapter where things really start happening so I was excited to get it out to you. Also it's pretty short. This chapter is still in Kieth's POV. Anyway on to the fic.

Warm sunrays cut through the water, beckoning me. My head breaks the surface and the sound of rolling waves gives way to sea birds. The sky above is as endless and blue of the water, broken by fluffy white clouds. The rocks are smooth from years of tides wearing away rough edges. After determining that there was no one around but me and the birds, I pull myself up out of the water finding a comfortable spot to overlook little my hideaway. The cliffs are high here, hiding me from prying eyes. The water is calmer. The sun feels warm on my scales.

It all strikes a familiar tune, just as my dreams do. I come here as often as I can without my absence becoming suspicious. Which is not often, especially with all the eyes on me lately. Which is why I’m not very good at this part. I come here for more than the aesthetic. This is where I practice my shifting.

A few days after the recovery of Shiro and Rolo’s limbs, my nightmares finally subsided. I had been dreaming in that vivid detail I’ve come to recognize as memories. In that dream I was walking alongside someone, looking down at the ground as we went, watching our feet match pace. The motion was as natural as breathing. In, out, left, right, in, out, left, right… I woke up choking on seawater, my scales- usually a vibrant metallic red- gone and replaced with pale, smooth skin. I panicked at the pressure of water, the lack of air.  
When my lungs filled I thought I had drowned. But I hadn’t and when I calmed, my scales flashed red in the dark, just as they should.

It had been a scary experience, but it was even further concrete proof that this world was built on lies. I had seen it. Humans are taboo. We are all taught this. They are selfish and evil. They take and never give. Their nature is to take that which is pure and use it, distort it to their own ends, consume until its corrupted or gone. We’ve all seen this, by what they’ve done to the oceans and sea life. But that night I saw skin; human skin where there should have been scales. I had begun to shift in my sleep and for the briefest moment, I had been human.

So I found this place, where no one can find me. No patrols following me, no pitying looks for the poor mer left without his brother. No one to suspect that I’d found something I should not have. At first I tried to focus really hard, to visualize the change. But deep concentration never led to anything but a headache. I’ve learned that the key is to relax. Calm my breathing and let my senses drift, like floating.

I haven’t made huge progress, but as I let the sun’s rays dry my hair and warm my shoulders, the red of my tail is slowly bleaching away. The palest I’ve gotten is just on the lighter side of salmon, nowhere near the pale flesh tone I’d achieved that night, but it was something. My scales are smoother, less defined. I can even see where bone is protruding, more pronounced than usual. And instead of one joint, it is clearly two separate knobs- they look an awful lot like knees.

The process is slow and if I think about it too hard the red bleeds back in and I have to start over. I’ve been out of the water long enough to feel the change in my lungs, my gills have closed and sealed. That’s something I never knew they could do before I started slipping away to this place. If fact every time I come here I learn something new and make it further into the shift before letting it slip back. Today, my caudal fin seems to have shortened a bit, my pectoral and dorsal fins are gone completely. It’s strange to see and even stranger to feel, but I’m amazed at it too.

The wind picks up, amplified by the enclosed space the cliffs create. The air becomes colder and I realize the sun has sunk below the rim of the cliffs, casting shadow over the water. I begin to feel a bit uneasy. It’s time to go. Someone will likely notice my absence if I stay here for too long anyway.

But I have to sit a while longer to allow my tail to blush back to its vibrant red. I have to wait for my lungs to adjust back or I’ll end up choking on sea water again. I learned that the hard way. The shadow creeps further out over the water and I feel the back of neck prick. I’ve been followed enough lately to know that feeling.

Even with the walls of rock, I feel exposed. I lower myself to the water, fluttering my lengthening fins anxiously as if to speed up the process. I don’t want to be here anymore. I touch the skin at my neck. No gills yet; dips in the skin like scars, but they haven’t opened. I can’t dive, not yet. I start to swim toward the wall where the opening to open water is concealed down below, where the cliff walls meet ocean floor. I want to be ready. The shadow of the cliff falls over me and I feel cold.

“It’s going for the exit!”

“Drop the net!”

Voices carry over the wind. I panic. Above me, a net falls down the canyon wall, not over me as I expected, but weights carry it down and I realize too late that they’re trying to block my exit. I dive. The surface above me is suddenly loud. There a lot of them. Humans.

My gills are still not opened and my panicked state isn’t helping. But I don’t care. If I can beat the net to the opening and away, I can escape by the time they do. I can breathe easy once I’m safely away. My muscles flex desperately, fins pushed though the water frantically, but I’m too slow. The net has already blocked the way. I swim deeper, even as my still- very- human lungs protest.

The weights at the end of the net are heavy. I try to pry them from the ocean floor- to get myself to the other side of that net. And I’m almost strong enough to do it; I’m able to pull it a couple inches off the sandy bottom. If I had my mer-lungs and the breath to do it, I could probably escape. The open ocean is so close. I can see the blue of it out there.

But I need air. I’m getting dizzy from the lack of it and the weighted net seems heavier with every second. On pure instinct, I drop the weight and my fins shoot me back to the surface. As soon as I breach I gulp in air and something hits my shoulder hard. Another hits my hip and my back. The water is red.

“Careful, you’ll kill it!”

I can’t stop the choked shout of pain and fear I feel at those words. When I try to dive again, I can only get a little ways below the water before something stops me, pulling me back. Harsh spikes of pain shoot from my shoulder, back, and hip. Through the blood I can see sharp harpoon hooks imbedded in me and connected to them are buoys keeping me from diving. I thrash and struggle, but the hooks tear at my flesh and I blackout for a second from the pain.

When I come back to myself, there are hands reaching for me. Hands like mine. But they are cruel. They tangle in my hair and pull me back above the air. I suck in air and bite at the other hands that go to hold and hurt me. They’re dragging me into shallow water. I’m in such a panic, I hardly feel the prick in my neck. But I feel the sedative.

I continue to lash out, sending water flying. My tail is powerful, sending a few men flying too before they pile on top of me, their combined weight crushing me. It’s getting harder to fight. My eyelids close on their own. I fight to keep them open. The world begins to blur and I feel heavy. The weight on my tail eases off and I give one last attempt to struggle, but all that follows is a rain of droplets from my tail slapping the water and I go still.

“Why’s it still awake?” I only process some of what they’re saying. “…should be out.”

“Biology must be… than human…we realized. Just needs another dose.”

I watch with dulled eyes as the man is handed another dose. The needle is every youngling’s nightmare and I whimper at the sight of it. It’s the only protest I can muster before I feel the sting of it in my neck, where my gills should be. I stare into the grey eyes of the man holding my head above water. The hold would almost seem loving. His hand cradles the back of my head gently, but his eyes are cold. I feel cold. I feel numb. I’m drifting and that grey is all I see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are still on board with this. I'm in the process of writing the next chapter now. Hopefully I can get it up soon. :)


	4. Accusing Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens to Keith following his capture?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. Here’s the next chapter for you!
> 
> To be clear, this chapter is from Lance’s POV. It’s also worth noting that in this AU, Lance is a member of the MFEs, which stands for something else. You’ll see.
> 
> Also, sorry if the MFEs seem out of character or like total jerks in this chapter. I’m still learning how to write them. In this story, Leifsdottir is nonbinary (they/them pronouns).
> 
> Anyway, on to the story.

The entire facility was still buzzing with the news. The mer had been successfully captured, alive, and had been brought in for research. When the truck convoy pulled into the back entrance to move the mer to lab, the Garrison practically came to a standstill with student researchers and instructors alike trying to get a glimpse.

The sight wasn’t exactly spectacular. In order to keep its scales and skin moist (and partially for a botched attempt at subtlety) its body had been draped in sopping wet towels, only its head visible on the stretcher.

In the time we had before it awoke, we were gathering as much information on it as possible. It’s not like the existence of merpeople was unheard of; it was common knowledge among the public, but they’re so rare and hard to catch. No one has ever had the opportunity to observe or research one, in the wild or in a lab setting. Until now.

We had the thing weighed and measured within minutes of entering the lab. We took samples of its blood, skin, and hair which were all sent for analysis. Sanda also instructed us to extract a scale and stomach contents. By now the mer was stirring. Not totally awake, but still somewhat responsive.

A research assistant made quick work of shining a flashlight in its eyes. The pupils reacted as a human’s would, constricting to pinpricks. She made a note on her pad. She moved on to another test before she could notice the way it blinked, squinting at its surroundings before its eyes lost focus, rolling back into its eyelids.

It was moaning in pain, blood still seeping from the wounds it received in its capture. The harpoons had been removed, but the gashes in its flesh were deep. I stood back, watching in a numb sort of twilight zone funk. After the measurements were taken, the towels had been quickly replaced. So there before me was a very human-looking boy, dazed and in pain, blood soaking through the towels.

I know I should feel lucky. Being on this team is an incredible opportunity. The Marine Folklore Ecoanalyists (MFEs) study fantastical beasts of the oceans. In this facility, we work mostly with kelpies, sea dragons, and other such creatures. As of today, that list now included a real living mer. This is groundbreaking research we’re doing. This was the type of project that could jumpstart my career. Any other student in the facility would kill to be on this team.

But I just kind of feel sick watching the creature writhe in confusion and pain. And probably fear, I realize. It’s strapped to a metal table under bright florescent lights, bleeding and drugged, surrounded by people who’ve done nothing but hurt it.

Leifsdottir moves the towel from over the thing’s tail. I have only a moment to take in the brilliant red of its scales before they’re using a pair of surgical pliers to remove one of those scales. It doesn’t come immediately. They have to use their weight and pull hard before the scale finally pulls free with a new spring of blood and a choked cry from the creature on the table.

It whimpers quietly and Rizavi murmurs something about giving it a local anesthetic. It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking to me. I jolt back into the mix of analysts preparing and administering the injection. It doesn’t even flinch. But I do.

A few more tests are run before it becoming increasingly clear that the sedative will be wearing off completely soon. It’s breathing hard and too groggy to move too much, but its eyes are more focused now, looking around at each and every one of us. When those eyes meet mine, I freeze up for a second.

I am suddenly choking on guilt and disgust with what we’re doing. Those eyes stare straight into my soul. They are dark and full of wet emotion. Those are the eyes of an intelligent being; a creature in pain and silently accusing. It’s only a second of eye contact before those eyes dart around the room to the next person, but I feel shaken.

The instructors have us MFEs step aside for this last test. It’s a little more hands on and they want us out of the way while they do it. Two stand on either side of the table, each grabbing a shoulder and hoisting the mer up until it’s sitting upright. It groans at the movement, chin hanging to its chest. Someone grabs its jaw, forcing it open and feeding a tube down its throat. It chokes and weakly attempts to buck off the men holding it, but there’s enough sedative in its blood to make the attempt laughable. Except no one is laughing.

A silicone bulb evacuator is attached to the end of the tube, feeding a clear liquid down the mer’s throat. It jerks again, closing its eyes. There are tears running down its face. I hear someone noting this aloud, though they’re expressing surprise and interest in the fact that merfolk have the tear ducts to produce tears. The mer suddenly gives a violent jolt, abs constricting and the silicone bulb fills with the creature’s stomach contents. I feel close to vomiting myself.

The bulb is detached and taken away for analysis and the tube is extracted from the mer’s throat with a wet slurp, leaving it coughing and gasping. Everything from there happens very fast. We’re ordered to aid in treating the mer’s wounds. The gashes are cleaned, sterilized, and wrapped.

Once that’s done we restrain and move it from the table to a clean stretcher and walk it through the few hallways between the lab and the tank we had set up for its arrival. The pure muscle of its tail lends it a lot of weight and it takes eight of us to carry it. The sedative is clearly wearing off fast now because that tail is thrashing, not violently enough to throw us off, but enough to make us stubble every few steps.

We’re instructed to lay it down in the shallow slope of the tank so that it won’t drown as the rest of the sedative wears off. We get about knee deep in the water before lowering it down. Its eyes are closed tight, probably dizzy from the transfer. But as soon as the water laps at its shoulders its tail jolts again, almost like a knee-jerk reaction, splashing water and sending everyone retreating. Iverson, moves in closer to release the restraints and jumps away when the creature’s immediate reaction was to lash out, crying in pain, and scrambling somewhat ungracefully down the slope to where it drops off into the deeper water of the tank and descends into the depths. We all stare after it, panting.

“Well then,” Iverson says, retrieving the stretcher and restraints from the water and turning back to us. “We’ve gotten all the samples the lab needs for now. MFEs, your job starts now. Right now, little to nothing is known about merfolk. It’s time we change that. I’ll be expecting you initial reports by morning.” With that he took his exit, his fellow instructors leaving with him.

Their departure was followed by an awkward silence, pregnant with anxious energy. It had been at least six hours since the mer was brought in and it had pretty much been nonstop since its arrival. This was the first quiet moment since arriving at the Garrison and we were all sort of exhausted from the experience. The silence was shattered by Griffin of course.

“Well, then I’m heading to the observation deck. Can’t really see much from here,” He said as he wadded out of the shallows. The others made to follow, but I stopped them before they could get too far.

“Wait, hang on. Is no one else bothered by any of this? We just tortured that thing!”

The others exchanged looks; regretful, but resolved.

“Look, I don’t think any of us can say we enjoyed any of that,” says Rizavi. “But the world has zero data on these things. We have the opportunity to learn so much here.”

“Not like that. We didn’t need to- we’re supposed to care for these creatures. That’s our jobs!”

“Actually, our job is to research them,” Leifsdottir amends helpfully. “Our role as MFEs is to make observations, collect data, and report our findings.”

“So none of you think any of this is wrong? I mean, we literally had blood on our hands not even ten minutes ago!”

“And what exactly did you think would happen,” Griffin retorted. “This was all your idea! You’re the one who told Iverson about the mer showing up periodically in the cove. You are the one who suggested catching it and bringing it here for research. So what did you think- the Garrison was just gonna ask it politely to jump out of water and beg to be studied?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. Because I guess I hadn’t thought about it as much as I should have. It sounded stupid when he put it like that, because no I didn’t expect the mer to jump into the Garrison’s arms, but I hadn’t thought about what the creature’s capture would look like. It had been violent and bloody. The mer had been scared.

I hadn’t thought about that tests they would run. I imagined bringing it in and releasing it immediately into the tank to begin observations like we did with all the other creatures we studied here. Then again, there is a way bigger working knowledge on those animals. Such tests weren’t necessary for them. How could I have been so naive?

James turns again to leave, Leifsdottir following close behind. Rizavi lingers for a second, but she too makes to follow the others. Kinkade sets a big hand on my shoulder, jolting me a little. He doesn’t say anything, but he gives me a sympathetic look before leaving me standing there. 

When they’re gone I look back at the depths where I lost sight of the red flash of scales. Everything that happens to it- him, is because of me. Because I wanted our team to be the first to get concrete data on a living mer. All of this is on me. I can’t get those accusing eyes out of my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Till next time! :)


	5. What is Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look into Keith's new surroundings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back with another one for you! This chapter is from Keith's POV.

As soon as I’m in the water I dive as deep as I can go; as far from those hurtful hands as possible. I groan in frustration when I’m met with sand- the bottom of this cage. It’s not very deep. Or at least not as deep as I’d hoped. I turn to watch the surface. Nothing follows me in, which means for the moment I’m alone. I focus on calming my breathing and get my bearings.

The water here is gross. It tastes stale and although I can tell it’s saltwater, I can also tell there is something chemical tanging it and leaving a thick aftertaste on the back of my tongue. There’s a giant rock pillar in the center of this enclosure, extending all the way to the surface. I veer closer to it, feeling a little safer with it as a protective barrier. I continue with the jagged rock face at my side, circling it in attempts to take everything in.

My mind is still clouded with the lingering heaviness that took hold of me in the cove. As the last lingering fogginess fades, I’m more and more aware of my whole body, alive with aches and pulsing pain. It makes it hard to move. After that burst of adrenaline I used getting into the safety the water offered, I feel drained. I swim in slow arcs.

Despite the pain it brings, it still feels good to be moving. It gives back some of the control I lost in the last- however long it’s been, strapped to a table. I have no illusions though, this situation is completely out of my control. I may not be strapped to that table this very second, but I know I’m still pinned down.

Exploring my cage, I’m getting a bit overwhelmed. A thick wall of glass encases the entirety of the tank, its floor covered in sand, rock, and sparse growths of sea weed, but no real cover. There are no hollows in the rock column, no places where the seaweed grows tall and thick enough to hide. This enclosure is meant to be that way I realize. My chest compresses with anxiety. I’m completely exposed anywhere I go. 

On the other side of the glass, there are benches and computer monitors, a metal staircase leading up to two more levels of catwalk, also decked with benches and tech stations; these are observation decks. As I come around my first full lap of the tank, I recognize the orange clad shapes on the other side of the glass as the humans who helped release me into this tank. They’re lounging over the benches and computer monitors, some writing in notepads and the rest typing, and all of them watching me.

I flare my fins aggressively, scowling at them, before rushing to put the rock column between us. My muscles protest at the effort. It is my only defense, the only way I can hide, but I’m slowed by the flares of pain in my shoulder, back, hip, and tail- where all of my major injuries are- and they follow me in my progress.

Anger swells in my chest. Haven’t they gotten enough from me? They can’t grant me just a few vargas to myself? A few doboshes even? In a blinding rush of frustration and ferocity, I rush the glass, swerving away at the last moment, and slam my tail into the glass as hard as I can. The shock wave reverberates with sound, resonating through the glass and echoing off the walls of the closed in space. A fresh wave of pain overtakes me, but it sends the humans scrambling back in shock and hovering at a bit of a longer distance, and I can’t bring myself to regret it.

But, while they don’t leave- as I hoped they would- they continue watching me as they had before, if a little more alertly now. I blow a plume of bubbles to try to calm down. I can’t hide, and I can’t throw myself senseless into the glass to scare off these clownfish, so I guess I’ll have to just ignore them and figure things out while they’re still here.

The first thing my attention settles on is the gaping hole in my tail where my scale used to be. The shadow of agony still lingers. I was pretty out of it when they ripped it from my tail. I hoped it had been a hallucination from the sedative. But my scale really is gone, and despite the gelatinous salve they smeared over it- as if that was going to make it better- the wound is bleeding. Not enough for me to see it in the water, but the copper taste cut sharply through the stale water. I guess that tantrum I just threw didn’t help. I allow myself to sink to the sandy floor of the tank, staring at the wound.

There is no greater shame for a mer than losing a scale. It is not honorable like battle scars many of the soldiers in the shoal bear. It is not awe inspiring like scars gained from surviving the rare shark attack or even more rare giant squid. Losing a scale is the ultimate sign of weakness. It symbolizes a mer’s inability to fight, to defend themselves, to stop the attack from happening. It is seen that a mer who loses a scale was undeserving of it. The loss is a crime on the mer’s behalf and disgrace is the punishment.

My lungs constrict as I trace the gash. It is an ugly patch of white, standing in stark contrast to the surrounding red of the scales I still have. It will never grow back. And I can’t hide the wound. I will never escape the guilt or dishonor of this loss. 

I can still feel eyes on me, just as I had at the shoal. I’m so agonizingly accustomed to the feeling, I’m able to tune it out and curl in on myself, hugging tail like doing so will do anything to protect me. Whatever else these people decide they want from me, they will take it by whatever means they feel are necessary to do so. Whatever more pain they cause, it’s hard not to feel like I deserve nothing less.

But the longer I sit, thinking of this violation, the angrier I get. I’m sick of being watched. I’m sick of everyone taking things from me and expecting me to be okay with it. I’m sick of everyone hurting me and expecting me to go on like nothing. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve ripped the wrappings they used to cover my wounds to shreds. The movement hurts and the wound at my shoulder begins to bleed, enough to cloud the water. I turn and stare straight at the humans on the other side of the glass, tossing the bandages into the barrier between us. Just to make sure I get my point across I snarl, baring my pointed teeth, fins flared, and death in my eyes.

‘If you want anything else from me, you’ll have to fight for it.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you find any mistakes please and hope you liked the chapter! :)


	6. Close Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance does not report all that he observes from his time in the tank. Also introducing Hunk and Pidge. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here's another chapter for you and I made it longer than the others so far. This chapter is from Lance's POV.  
> Also, be warned: I endulge in a lot of headcannons in my fics. I have a headcanon that Lance's hair is naturally curly and he straightens it. So enjoy that little nugget. :)

I had intended to join the others on the observation deck after a few minutes to myself to wallow in self-hatred and all that other fun junk, but I apparently couldn’t confine it to just a few minutes. Yes, I’m sulking. Sue me. I hate how right Griffin is, and taking responsibility for all of this is a bit overwhelming. I don’t really know how or what I can do, but I have to fix this. Knowledge doesn’t justify torture.

Instead I made my way over the metal bridge spanning from the platform to the island situated smack in the middle of the tank. From here the water looks endlessly deep. Griffin’s right again- damn it- you really can’t see much from here. And I’ll probably get torn a new one from Iverson when I don’t have much in my report, but whatever, I need to think. I make a mental note to at least time how often the mer comes up for air.

Well apparently the answer is never. I’ve been sitting here for hours watching the water for any sign of the mer. By now I’m sure the others have left to write up their reports and really I should probably do the same, but I can’t bring myself to leave. It was my choices and actions that led to the mer being trapped here and leaving him alone, hurt, and afraid feels wrong. I haven’t figured out any way to undo the damage I’ve done, but I’ve sort of convinced myself that I can prevent any further harm if I’m here to stop it.

So I remain where I am, searching the depths for pale skin, a flash of brilliant red, or those dark eyes. I still haven’t gotten them out of my head. But the surface never breaks. The water remains unyielding. My thoughts are elsewhere for a long time so it takes me longer than it should to realize that the lighting on the tank should be enough to penetrate anywhere in the dark water. So from here I should be able to see something, even if it’s just a watery glimpse of fins every now and then, but I can’t see anything.

A little more vigilant now, I search the whole tank, walking the entire perimeter of the island. I circle it a couple times, each time coming up empty. The hair on my arms prickle. I swallow down the strange feeling. It seems ridiculous to get spooked. But call me ridiculous because circling the tank a couple more times still has me coming up with nothing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the tank was empty. But I do know better.

I suddenly feel like an idiot standing on this island, surrounded on all sides by water with a shark circling, or an equally dangerous and ten times as mysterious creature. I saw its- his teeth when they took dental x-rays. He has sharp canines and after all the crap we put him through, I imagine he would love to bite back. I glance at the bridge and quickly decide against it. I don’t want to be over the water any more than I want to be surrounded by it. Not until I know where the mer is.

I step up to one of the monitors on the island glancing around every now and then. The screen blinks to life and I give it the command to scan the tank for a heat signature. The seconds it takes to run the scan has me eying surface for any kind of movement. I’m only sweating a little. 

The computer beeps and shows that the signature is indeed still in the tank, right beside me. I turn slowly, and I see him right there, only his dark hair and eyes breaching the surface. And he’s looking right at me. 

I most certainly did not squeak at the sight. Or freak out even more when he sinks out of view and the screen shows the heat signature shooting towards me. I may have screamed a little bit when there’s suddenly a body rocketing out of the water and hands clamping around my ankles, dropping me on my ass and dragging me toward the water. It was a manly scream. Naturally.

And then I’m in the water. I get the good sense to shut my mouth as the mer drags me further down, the rush of water loud in my ears. I can feel his body against mine, muscles flexing and the power behind it is even more frightening. I try to open my eyes- like seeing what’s going on will help me get out of this somehow. Bad idea. Salt water. Now my eyes are burning alongside my lungs. He releases me and I drift, swinging my arms to stop spinning. I can’t tell which way is up or down.

I kick my legs and of course ram my foot straight into a rock, rolling my ankle. I gasp in pain, bubbles of air escaping before I clamp my mouth shut again. I must be near the bottom and I panic even more, realizing how much water is between me and air. I will never be able to swim that distance. I’m fucked.

Swooping sounds circle me and I can feel the whoosh of water being displaced by the mer’s movement. He really is circling me. Pressure builds in my chest and I wait for the teeth in my throat to end it all. So imagine my surprise when I feel his hands in my hair, fingers raking gently and smoothing down to hold my jaw. I’m so confused I hazard opening my eyes again. Still not a good idea.

I’m starting to get lightheaded and I unwittingly release another stream of bubbles. Instinct jerks my limbs, desperately trying to get me to the surface, but I know I won’t make it. Maybe on a good deep breathe (I am a pretty great swimmer after all), but not with my lungs burning like this. Not on the verge of passing out. I feel myself fading, drifting. My efforts losing steam.

And then I’m breathing again. Gasping and sucking in oxygen. I’m sopping wet, my hair dripping and Garrison uniform heavy of my frame. It takes a long ass time to realize that I am in fact alive. I sit up with some effort, eyes still stinging, and look over to see the mer beside me, staring at me with such intensity I feel like I’m still underwater. A little irritated I flick droplets at him and he finally looks away, lip wrinkled. When I finally have my breath back, I’m babbling nonsense at him.

“What the hell man! First you disappear, stalk me, try to drown me, then you pet me while I’m drowning, save me, then stare at me like a creeper! What is your problem? If you were gonna kill me then kill me, but make up your mind. And stop staring!” He had in fact been staring again. His eyes dart away and I realize he is now examining my hand. Before I can scramble far enough away, he’s got a grip of my wrist, pulling me back and I suck in a breath, expecting to be pulled back underwater again.

But he’s just studying my hand like it holds the world’s secrets. Try as I might I can’t pull my wrist away so I stay still and watch him. He traces my palm, flexes my fingers, kneading my knuckles. His lips are pouted and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I would almost think he’s never seen a hand before. The encounter has gone from terrifying, to weird, to almost endearing. And then his palm is against mine. His skin is incredibly soft and warm, his fingers pale and not at all webbed like I expected. His hand looks human. He laces our fingers and his lips part, eyes darting back to mine.

We’re stuck like that for a moment and then I back away, taking my hand with me. He almost looks hurt as I retreat and I actually find myself feeling guilty. I open my mouth to say something but he’s doing the same. Before I can form words, I distinctly hear him murmur a quick, “I’m sorry.”

I’m stunned, and before I can snap out of it enough to respond I have to jump back from the splash as he plunges back below, tail sending a wave of water airborne, and disappears like he was never there. I’m left dripping wet with the ghost feeling of his hand in mine, my ankle throbbing dully, and feeling very confused. I sniff, wiping my bangs out of my eyes. Great, my hair is going to be a curly mess when it dries. I guess that’s not my main concern at the moment though because honestly, what the hell just happened?

VLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLD

“McClain! Where is your report?”

Iverson is in his usual cheery mood and my lack of sleep and general emotional whiplash from recent events makes his tone seem sharper than it probably is.

“Uhhhhh… well, I was hoping I could give my report verbally? Sir.”

“Of course you were,” I try not to cringe at the look he’s giving me. “And what do you have to report?”

“Well…I think we were wrong about him needing air to breathe. I went into last night’s observation session planning to track how often he came up for air, but he never did. I mean, unless he can hold his breath for a really, really long time-,"

“I have multiple accounts, including my own, from its capture noting that it specifically needed to breathe air and that this was critical to taking it down quickly.” I know this. I was there too.

“But he never came up for air last night. He only came to the surface once and that wasn’t to breathe it was to- er…look around.” I’m not sure why I didn’t want to share my encounter. Part of me thinks it’s because getting myself in that situation showed some negligence on my part, which is embarrassing.

But the whole thing also seemed weirdly intimate. You know, minus the whole ‘almost drowning’ part. It’s not something I want to tell Iverson, or anyone else for that matter. I’m just glad that there are no cameras in the observation decks or on the island to rat me out.

“Anything else?”

“Uhhh, well…no. Nothing that the others haven’t already detailed in their own reports.” I had skimmed through those to see if they saw something as…exciting, as I did. He had displayed aggression, but that seems fair. Of course he’s being defensive.

“Let’s see if you can’t gather a bit more worthwhile information next time. This was your idea,” As if I need any more reminding. “You need to start investing a little more effort.”

That stings. I just spent the entire night here. I never even made it home, having just enough time to get to my locker, change into a dry Garrison uniform, and start the morning feeding for the kelpies before it was time to report in to Iverson. The others had already been dismissed to start today’s mer research. I suppose to be fair I didn’t have much to show for the extra time I spent in the tank, but Iverson never seems to notice when I put extra effort into anything. It’s frustrating. It’s discouraging.

“And McClain! Future reports will be submitted in writing. I think you’ll do good to spend the day in the Pits to remember that.”

“Yes sir.” I leave his office feeling dejected. I’ll miss a whole day with the merman. Which means he’ll be alone with them for all that time. I can only hope he’ll be okay. There’s not much else I can do.

The Pits is, by definition, one of the nastiest places of the Garrison. All of the animals housed in this facility eat, and they eat a lot. Endless varieties of fish, crab, shrimp, squid, and who knows what else are brought in, processed for consumption (meaning they are gutted, chopped, skinned, deboned, etc). And the left over bits are sent down to the Pits to either be blended into chum or disposed of.

They even get shipments of kelp, seaweed, and fruit produce. If any of it is deemed ‘not fresh enough’, it too is sent to the Pits. Aside from the amazing visual all of that makes, that smell is bad. And that’s coming from someone who’s around fish a lot. Have you ever smelled fish? Like a lot of them? It’s definitely up there in my list of grossest smells. Like, it’ll fry your nose hairs if you’re not careful. But the Pits still win. No contest. Today is going to suck.

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By nightfall I’m exhausted. Hunk drove us back to our apartment, for which I am grateful. I don’t have the brain function required for driving right now. Hunk is not letting me get off lightly though.

“Dude, roll down the window or something. You stink!”

“Hey, you don’t exactly smell like roses either.” Hunk works part time in the processing room preparing the meals for all our fishy friends. I know between the two of us I smell way worse though.

“I’m so tired. I might fall asleep on the way home.”

“Oh no you’re not. I am not carrying upstairs.”

“Why not! You did last month!”

“You were sick.”

“I’m home sick,” I mumble lamely.

“Doesn’t count,” he says, turning onto our street. “Besides, you definitely need a shower.”

“Can I sleep in the shower?”

“No.”

“Awww, you’re no fun.” My thoughts are getting fuzzy at the edges and I seriously debate if going straight to bed when we get home is worth dealing with this smell in my sheets when I wake. No, because that’ll take forever to clean and I already missed a whole day of mer research. I won’t risk being late tomorrow.

“Hey Hunk?”

“Yeah?”

I look out the window. “Never mind.”

“No, what’s up?”

We’re pulling into our parking space and I wait till we’re both out of the car and trudging tiredly up the stairs before speaking again.

“Do you think it was a mistake telling Iverson about the merman?”

Hunk looks back at me from a few steps up. “You guys are getting some incredible information. It’s crazy how much you’ve already learned. It’s literally all anyone is talking about right now.” He pauses when he sees my face, and hesitates getting the keys out. “Why? Do you think it was a mistake?”

“I- I think it might have been.”

Hunk closes the door behind us, waiting for me to continue. I start to move toward the couch, but Hunk makes a noise of animalistic distress and I lean against the wall instead. He’d die if I made the couch smell like this.

“He was injured in the capture. And about a dozen other times since. They’re hurting him just to see what data it’ll reveal. The way he’s being treated- it’s all wrong.” Hunk’s brows pinch. He doesn’t say anything for a while.

“What do you want to do about it,” he sounds quieter, more serious.

My tired thoughts are racing and unconsciously my fingers trace over the palm of my hand. I remember his warm skin. And his piercing eyes. I remember his voice. He had talked to me, however briefly. He had said he was sorry. Why was he sorry? For trying to drown me? Then why save me? Of all people, I’m definitely the one who would have deserved it. 

But he didn’t. He saved me. He -I blush a bit at the thought- he even tried to connect with me. And I shut him down. He unwittingly showed a softer side of himself. He doesn’t deserve this. Any of it.

“I want to save him,” I say decisively. I look up at Hunk and let my hand fall to my side. “I want to get him out.”

VLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLD

The next morning we’re back at the Garrison tending to our morning duties. After I finish the morning rounds of feeding, I meet up with Hunk. We have a little time before the real meat of today’s work begins and we take the opportunity to go visit Pidge.

This early in the morning, she is to be found in one of the tech rooms going over data. This early in the morning, it is also generally expected by any who know her that Pidge is going to be in a bad mood. A steady stream of colorful language can be heard before we even turn into the hallway. A very bad mood today especially.

“-sick of this shit! You tell Iverson he better not try to pin this on me, this is all on the higher ups!” A terrified looking cadet comes stumbling out of the tech room looking like he’s escaping the jaws of a feral beast. He’s not wrong.

“S-she’s friggin’ crazy,” he wheezes as he passes us.

“Hey Pidgey, how goes it,” I try for a light tone as we step into her dimly lit sanctum of screens, machines, and things.

“Can it Lance! I told you the next time you called me that I’d stuff you in the chum blender,” her glasses flash in the light from her screen and I notice a dangerous lack of coffee on her desk. 

“You’re lucky I’m currently going after the IDIOTS IN CHARGE OF THIS PLACE or you’d be in serious trouble.”

I glance over at Hunk, noting his concerned expression. So he noticed the caffeine situation too. Good. It’s better never to approach an early morning, uncaffeinated Pidge without back up.

“Why are they idiots today,” I venture.

Pidge huffs dramatically. “They won’t authorize the equipment I requested because it’s ‘not cost efficient’ but then shit like this happens!” She gestures to her screen where several lines of stats are listed. Half of them have data points (they don’t mean anything in particular to me) and the rest are blank.

“Uhhh… what are we looking for?”

“Data, Lance. And only half of these are still giving readings! The rest weren’t strong enough to withstand oceanic conditions, which is why I requested better equipment! So we lost the tags on three different sharks last night and that is not on me. IF THEY ACTUALLY CARED TO GET RESULTS, THEY’D INVEST IN SOME DECENT TECH,” she yelled at the ceiling.

She gives one last exasperated sigh before slouching into her seat. “So what’s up with you?” Then she’s sitting up straight again. “Have you guys found out anything cool about the mer? I heard it’s got super sharp teeth and a red tail! Although, I also heard it has glow in the dark eyes, octopus tentacles, and a stinger like a sting ray so it’s hard to figure out what’s rumor and what’s not.”

“Um, well the teeth and tail part are true. I haven’t seen his eyes glow in the dark, and…tentacles? Those belong purely to cephalopods and porn.”

“Porn you watch,” Pidge smirks.

“I-I do not!”

“Dude, I’ve literally seen it on your computer, like multiple times,” Hunk says, clearly trying not to laugh. Pidge making no such attempt.

“Okay, changing the subject, like right now!” I’m so embarrassed my ears are burning. I groan as they continue laughing, hiding my face in my hands before I have to intervene.

“ANYWAY!” That catches their attention and they finally bring their attention back to the conversation. “We actually came here to talk about that. Well him.” My tone is serious. Graciously it seems Pidge picks up on this. She leans towards me in her chair, making me feel a bit more heard.

“Him?” Pidge raises a brow at me.

“Yes him. The mer? Look, I regret telling Iverson about him. He’s suffering and-,”

“So you want to bust him out ‘Free Willy’ style?”

“Uhhh, well yeah, actually.”

“I’m in.”

“B-but you haven’t even-,”

“Don’t need to. One: I trust your judgment. If you say something is wrong, I believe you. No questions asked. Two: The Garrison could use a lesson in humility. They think they’re all high and mighty, well guess what bitches? Where’s your newest, shiniest project? Gone you say? Well isn’t that just shitty luck? Kinda like trackers just deciding they’re not gonna work anymore. Such a bummer!” At some point in her rant she was back to addressing the ceiling.

“So-,” her attention snaps back to me and actually jump. “Meet up at lunch to discuss escape tactics?”

Hunk and I agree and listen to Pidge go on to rant about the break room being out of coffee. It helps to settle some of the nervous energy in the pit of my stomach at the prospect of breaking the merman out of here. Pidge may have agreed rather quickly and seemingly just to settle a peeve with the higher ups, but I know she’s taking this seriously.

It’s not like sneaking a kitten out of a pet shop in your sweatshirt pocket. (I may or may not have done this before and that kitten’s name may or may not be Blue.) The Garrison is big facility, with a lot of security, and majorly severe consequences if we’re caught. And it’s not like we can smuggle a freaking merman out in the pocket of my Garrison uniform. We need to be careful and plan ahead. It will probably take time and I know we need to work quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pidge is fun to write. xD  
> Till next time!


	7. Contingency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang make their ‘Free Willy’ plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so sorry it took me a while to get this chapter out. I’ve kind of been recovering after season 8. I have such mixed feelings about this season. There were moments that I absolutely adore and then there are ones that made me cringe. 
> 
> All in all, there were some MAJOR flaws to this season. But I choose to appreciate it for those moments I loved and try my best to forget the rest. And where I fail- well that what fanfics are for! So here you go and again sorry. This one is from Lance's POV.

The tension is heavy on the observation deck this morning. It’s in the rigid set of Kinkade’s shoulders, or the way Rizavi keeps unconsciously biting her lip. Griffin has a deep frown, his brows pinched as he stares up into the blue of the tank. Leifsdottir looks bored if anything, but even they seem to stand a little straighter. And I have to admit that I’m as anxious as they are.

The merman is not doing well. His injuries aren’t getting worse at all, but they’re definitely not getting better. The gash in his shoulder looks especially painful. And he’s been refusing to eat. Iverson tried to set scheduled feeding times to draw the mer to the surface during specific hours of the day, but as far as I know, he hasn’t gone to the surface at all since my encounter with him. And on top of all that, it’s clear that he’s distressed. 

Despite the obvious pain he’s in, he circles the tank constantly in a manor I can only relate to pacing. He glares and flashes his teeth, flaring his fins wide whenever he notices us watching him too closely. Or, at least he does at the others. When he saw me join them on the deck, he glided to a stop, his dark eyes searching me. The way his lashes framed his stare and his hair clouded around his head made him seem otherworldly and for that moment I was both humbled and captivated.

That moment was broken when Griffin stepped up beside me. The mer’s eyes shifted toward him and back before, with a flurry of fins and bubbles, he was back to circling the tank, looking especially frustrated. His scales caught the light, making them flash brightly. For a creature normally shrouded in such mystery and myth, it’s strange to see him so starkly on display.

This makes it all the more easy to see that the mer is getting weak. His ribs are more prominent and he sometimes seems disoriented, or shuts down. When he’s not pacing, he’s either throwing himself angrily at the glass or sitting in the sand, staring into nothing. We take our notes silently, but all of us have noticed the negative effects this place is having on him in only a few days. And I can tell that I’m not the only one bothered by it. No one has said aloud their concerns, but the uneasy strain on the observation deck practically screams it.

I find my focus wondering, taking in the others one by one. The light shining through the tank casts their stressed expressions in watery shadow. Kinkade has always been a quiet guy, strong and intimidating to a lot of the younger cadets, but he has a kind heart. Rizavi looks like she’s physically choking on guilt as her eyes flick between the tank and her notes. She hasn’t spoken a word since reporting in this morning and I notice she’s paying less attention to the mer and more to her shoes the longer we’re here.

Griffin’s face never changes as he takes his notes, but I can see concern in his eyes. And Leifsdottir, they may seem cold and detached to someone who didn’t know them well, but we’ve been a research team for some time now and I know better. Their mind may be more fluent with facts and stats, but they’ve always stood for the things they thought were right, and although they continue to take down detailed notes, their eyes are softer, betraying their worry.

I’m debating with myself. They all know this is wrong just as much as I do. Would they be willing to help if they knew we were planning to free the mer? Or would they fear the consequences? Would they tell Iverson? Or Sanda? We can’t risk that, but then that just leaves me, Hunk, and Pidge. It took eight people to carry a drugged out mer from the lab to the tank. We definitely won’t be able to get him out of here by ourselves, just the three of us. Not carrying him anyway. But our options are limited.

Things would be a lot easier if I could get a chance to talk to the merman. He’s already proven his understanding of language. At least it seems so from the brief interaction we had. If I could talk to him, tell him what we’re planning, well- it would just be a lot easier if he knew we weren’t trying to hurt him; if he could collaborate with us to make we sure we got him out as fast as possible. That means I’ll likely be having more late nights in my future. The latest night and earliest morning hours are the times that the Garrison is the most empty.

It occurs to me that I don’t know what to call the merman. The more invested I get in this, the stranger it seems to continue to refer to him as anything but a name. He must have one. Pidge had made a reference to breaking him out ‘Free Willy’ style and now my mind wants to call him Willy. It doesn’t fit him though. His demeanor is ethereal and I bet he has a name to match.

Does he have a family? Someone must be missing him. Is he homesick? I definitely know that feeling. Of missing someone so much your heart aches. And the tiniest things bring them to mind at random moments; a smell, or a taste, or a song.

This tank though- it’s nothing like the ocean. There are no lively currents and waves or adventurous winds. There are no corals or creatures of every color. No cool depths or endless wonder. Next to that, this tank seems so stark and sterile. And lonely. 

When the others begin to file out for lunch, I start to follow. The mer is watching me go. I hesitate, wondering if I’ve made as much of an impression on him as he did on me. Maybe now would be a good time to try to talk to him. I linger just long enough to notice a reflection in the glass; a reflection of me, and someone directly behind me. They hadn’t been there moments ago. I whirl around, my heart pounding at how close he got without making a sound. His frame is intimidating and the intensity of his presence makes me shiver. 

But he’s paying little attention to me. His eyes are cold and staring past me and into the tank. I look over my shoulder. The mer looks stricken, his hands in fists on the glass. I look back at the man and he’s stepped closer. I’m practically cornered between him and the glass behind me. It takes me moment to find my voice, but when I do I’m grateful for the calm in my words, despite the apprehension sending alarms blaring in my head.

“Did Iverson give you clearance to be on this deck?”

He doesn’t even spare me a glance. “I don’t need permission to be here. And you don’t have the authority to question me.”

I don’t like this man; the low shine in his eyes or the smirk on his face as he watches the mer. He looks like he’s won something and is enjoying his prize.

“I think you need to leave,” I stand my ground. However much I’d like to put a great distance between this man and myself, I can sense that he is dangerous and leaving here alone is definitely not an option.

He finally looks down at me with an air mild contempt. “Your team has left and you should do the same.” It’s not exactly a threat, but I feel threatened nonetheless. He steps around me and right up to the glass. The mer has backed away looking more confused and distressed than I’ve ever seen him.

“Look I don’t know how you got past security, but you need clearance to be-,”

“Stand down McClain,” Iverson says as he descends the last of the stairs to this level. “This is Caiden Pike. And he’s got the clearance. I called him in to evaluate how we can improve the conditions of this tank. I’d rather get some live studies in before resorting to analyzing a dead specimen.” I bristle at that comment, but am cut off from protesting by the man. 

“Firstly, those wounds need to be properly treated,” he says.

“We’ve tried,” Iverson sighs. “It tore the dressings to shreds.”

Pike chuckles, “Of course he did.” His tone is almost fond. He turns back to us with a smile. “Well, I think I’ve seen enough here for now. Why don’t you show me to the control room? I’d like to see what filtration systems you have in place.”

Iverson looks annoyed, but starts back up the stairs. As he moves to follow, Pike’s gaze falls on me, only for a second, and then he too takes to the stairs. I shiver. I feel like a shrimp this predator has decided is too small to justify a meal and has passed me over. But as he ascends behind Iverson, he is looking into the tank. The hunger in that gaze is obvious and I can tell the mer sees it too. He looks as shaken as I feel and I know that Iverson calling this man in can mean nothing good for the mer.

VLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLD

Plans are coming together. Agonizingly slow, but we’ve talked over every possible obstacle. Any way this could possibly go wrong and how we can adjust accordingly. We decided not to bring the rest of the MFEs into it. After standing alongside them for days and watching them grow more and more restless with guilt and anger, I’m convinced they would absolutely support an escape, and honestly we could use the help. But Hunk and Pidge aren’t as sure of their convictions as I am. They’ve been adamant that if we’re doing this at all, we’re doing it with only those we can all trust beyond a doubt. So we had to plan an escape plot with just the three of us.

I never was able to talk to the mer again or even approach him since our encounter. Pike has become a constant shadow on the observation deck. As if any of us needed any more reason to be on edge. I’m not the only one who doesn’t like him being there. Though Rizavi is the only one who has voiced her dislike of him aloud- in front of him, very loudly, and with no concern as to how he will respond. He has never done anything but grin, as if he finds the insulting (but not inaccurate) remarks amusing.

But we’ve plotted this out as much as we can without wasting any more time. The longer this has taken, the worse a condition the mer is slipping into. Pike has made a few adjustments to the feeding routine and he is eating now. Only the tiniest bit and I’m convinced it’s more out of desperate hunger than anything Pike has done.

It’s time. We’ve gathered our supplies and our wits. Hunk, Pidge, and I went over the plan one more time as we pull into the student parking lot of the Garrison. All the steps, all the back up plans. We’ve thought of just about everything. The morning air is crisp. It helps to calm some of my nerves that are acting up again. I hope the day goes by fast. The anticipation of what we’re planning to do tonight is enough to drive me crazy.

All three of us pause as we approach the Garrison’s doors. Deep breaths in. Deep breaths out. We’re ready. Wordlessly we make our way inside, set to steal the greatest project the Garrison has ever had, right out from under them.

We haven’t even made it a few steps in before an alarm is blaring through the speakers. I hear a heavy click as the doors automatically lock behind us and within seconds guards are flooding in from the hallways, gathering everyone together and leading us away.

There about thirty of us, student researchers and instructors coming in to start the day early, by the time the alarm is turned off, though the emergency lights still flash. I glace over at the others. Hunk looks worried and he looks about ready to puke. Pidge has a look of determination on her face. We’re all being moved to another part of the facility through a cramped hall I’ve never seen before.

In the loud shuffle of feet on linoleum floors and orders barked from the guards, I hear Hunk whisper, “How could they have known?” Pidge leans into us. Only loud enough for me and Hunk to hear, she says, “We haven’t even done anything yet. They can’t accuse us of anything.”

“Then what the cheese is going on?” I’m not the only one asking questions. I can see Griffin a few heads away practically harassing a guard trying to find out. They’re not answering anyone though, only telling us to quiet down, turn here, stay together.

We finally come upon an open space where the guards spread out to line the walls and we all sort of huddle awkwardly in the middle. The murmur of questions from those gathered has become a full on shouting match with the guards. It’s only interrupted when one voice carries over all.

“Everyone quiet!” The tone is sharp and the authority behind it sends everyone into silence. The crowd shuffles uneasily and my height lends me the favor of seeing over a few heads and around shoulders to the one who is speaking. It’s Admiral Sanda. She looks stern as she continues.

“You all need only cooperate and this will go by smoothly. Each of you will be taken aside and asked some questions. Answer them truthfully and you will be free to go.” She turns to the closest guard and although she’s lowered her voice, I still distinctly hear her say, “Start with the MFEs.”

I break into a sweat as the guards advance on the crowd, fishing out a raging Rizavi and searching for the rest. Pidge is at my ear whispering quickly as the guards come closer.

“Remember Lance, you haven’t done anything. We’ve been careful. They can’t have known what we were planning. You’re innocent and they’ve got nothing on you.”

I have barely the mind to nod before the closest guard spots me and takes my arm in his grip, pulling me away from my friends. I repeat those words in my head like a mantra. ‘I’m innocent. They’ve got nothing on me.’ I’m fine until they’ve got us separated from the rest and dragging us away. When I lose sight of Hunk’s worried face, my mantra falters and now all that’s going through my head is shit, shit, shit, shit, shit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness of this chapter. I just wanted to reassure that I'm not abandoning the fandom/ my fics like I've seen a lot of other people doing after season 8 released. So what did you guys think of this season? Be nice though. If you disagree with someone, keep it civil please.


	8. Change in Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finds out what’s going on and Keith makes an important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts out in Lance’s POV. At the first VLD line, it switches to Keith. I’ll write in a reminder so it’s clear where the POV changes. Let me know if it’s too confusing and I’ll split it up into two chapters.

We’re dragged through a door and forced into a row of chairs in a narrow hallway space. Well, all of us except Leiphsdattor, who is taken though an adjacent door. It slams loudly behind them.

“Hey, do you know what’s going on,” Griffin asks, resting his elbows on his knees.

“No talking,” a guard barks.

“You’re treating us like criminals. We haven’t done anything wrong,” Kinkade counters.

“No talking,” he repeats.

The protesting and arguments go back forth for several agonizing minutes. Ultimately it ends with Rizovi singing ‘It’s a Small World’ over and over just to piss off the guard across from her. He has a vein in his temple that looks dangerously close to rupture, but he seems to have given up on getting her to shut up.

Griffin has his head in hands grumbling for it to stop. Kinkade has his arms crossed over his chest, leaned back against the wall tuning her out. And honestly my thoughts are too loud to hear her.

Most of my brain power is going into keeping my nerves from making my leg bounce or drum my fingers on my knees. Just keep it cool. Pidge is right. There’s no way they could have known. They’ve got nothing on me. I just have to calm down.

I try to force myself into a quiet state of mind. My thoughts wander. I think of the beach; little hands carving a castle into warm sand. Nadia’s smile when I declare her the mighty Princess of such a fine castle. Sylvio’s puffing out his chest as he declares himself a knight. They’re growing so much.

The time passes slowly, but I feel a little calmer. Then the door opens abruptly, snapping blue skies and churning waters out of my mind. Leiphsdattor is escorted by. They glance up at me before passing and I have to squeeze my knees to keep my fingers from drumming again. Rizovi has now moved on to sing the Bad Boys theme song and the guard’s face is becoming increasingly red.

Griffin is called next and I distinctly hear him mutter, “Oh thank God,” as he practically jumps from his seat. Again the door closes and we’re back to waiting. I try to bring the beach back to mind, but another image comes forth instead. Flashes of red fins and dark hair; even darker lashes. 

When Griffin finally comes back through the door, he keeps his eyes trained perfectly ahead until he’s almost past before they flash my way and ahead again. Like he was trying to avoid looking at me. Or am I just reading into this too much? Either way, he’s taken down a hall and out of sight.

They call Rizovi next and the guard looks so relieved to have quiet that I’m amusedly distracted until she comes out some time later. She winks at the guard as she goes by. He glares after her and I almost laugh.

I ‘m pretty sure Kinkade has fallen asleep with his head leaning against the wall and I suppose I should have realized they’d call me next. But my light mood is immediately soured when I hear my name.

I’m taken into the next room, expecting an interrogation chamber. I’m thoroughly confused when instead I’m walked into a room that looks much like a student chem lab. The guards sit me down at one of the desks in the middle of the room. Before me stands Sanda, Iverson, and a few of the other Garrison higher ups. 

I have a brief moment to imagine these people getting their ears talked off by an angry Pidge later, before Sanda fixes me with a stern look. And I realize I was very wrong. This looks like a classroom, but it is very much an interrogation room. My leg is back to bouncing and I can do nothing to stop it. I’m also rambling and I can’t seem to stop that either.

“We having a party in here? Still got the disco lights flashing,” the emergency lights still haven’t been turned off. “So what’s the occasion? Garrison’s not big on parties…a-and really I should get back to my morning routine. The sea dragons won’t feed themse-,”

“Quiet McClain,” says Sanda and I snap my mouth shut. I realize I’m the only one in the room sitting. The power imbalance here is painfully obvious and I feel like a kid getting in trouble in school.

“As I said before, just answer some questions and you’re free to go. However, your duties are frozen until further notice.”

“What- what do you mean? Frozen?”

“The Garrison will be shut down until this matter is resolved. Essential personnel will stay. You are classified as nonessential.”

Okay, ouch, but, “But what about the animals? They still need someone taking care of them. They have routines! You can’t just stop those; they’ll die. That makes me pretty damn essential I think.”

“Someone else will attend to them in the meantime.” Her glare shuts up any further protests. 

“Now I need you to pay attention. And answer truthfully.”

“M’kay.”

“You and the other MFEs have been tasked with studying the mer,” she starts. The mention of him sends my heart racing again. “You all have been staying late at the Garrison to take your notes and make your reports.”

“Yeah…,”

“The others have reported that you usually stay later. Is that true?”

“Well yeah,” I scratch my wrist nervously, realize I’m doing it, and clasp my hands tightly together. Stop twitching, you idiot! You look suspicious! Sanda’s eyes follow the movement and I will myself to relax.

“What time did you leave last night?”

“I-I don’t know. Late? Or- early I guess?”

“What time?”

“Er- one, maybe two-ish?”

“Why stay so late?”

I look back and forth between them. “Am I in trouble for staying too late or something? This seems like a lot of overkill.”

“Just answer her,” Iverson says.

I huff an exaggerated sigh. Something is very wrong obviously, but I didn’t do anything. Yet. Just act ignorant. Hopefully ignorance will play off as innocence.

“He acts different when there’s less people around. It opens up opportunities to learn something we wouldn’t at any other time.” I’m kind of BSing this. It’s not a lie, but it’s also not as relevant as I’m implying. Mostly I stay so late because I’m reluctant to leave.

“Did you go straight home after leaving?”

“I stopped by my locker to grab some things, but then yeah, I went home.”

They all exchange silent looks before turning back to me. “Have you noticed anyone showing particular interest in the mer recently?”

“Pppfff yeah, like, everyone! He’s a freaking merman! Everyone in the Garrison has expressed interest.” But then I think about her question more and a certain smirk and accompanying cold eyes comes to mind. And everything clicks into place. They’re asking questions because something happened to the mer. And I’m absolutely sure that that guy had something to do with it.

“Is he- is the mer…dead?” My heart is pounding loud in my ears.

They exchange another set of looks and I want to yell at them in frustration.

“It’s gone,” Iverson says. It takes me a moment to process that.  
“Gone? As in…,”

“Missing.”

“Missing!” My mind is racing. We spent so much time planning. Getting ready. We had contingencies for nearly any scenario. But not this. The mer is gone? How?!

“That- that guy you brought in… Pike! I haven’t felt right about him since day one! Whatever is going on, guaranteed he’s involved!”

“He was the one to realize the mer was missing,” Sanda says sharply. “He came in early this morning to make some adjustments to the water salinity and found the tank empty.”

“Well of course he would say that! It’d seem less suspicious if he’s the one to report it!”

“Even so, he would not have been able to work alone.”

That shut me up for a second because that’s a valid point. Planning this had been hard enough with just me, Pidge, and Hunk. He was one creepy bastard, but even he couldn’t pull something like that off alone. I can’t think of a single person who’d conspire with him though. So what the hell?

My obvious confusion and determination to figure this out seems to convince them that I’m not involved. They continue asking me questions, but they’re directed at others or anything I may have noticed in the past few days. I’m able to almost tune out, giving my answers while puzzling it out in my head.

It seems like no time at all before I’m being escorted out like the others. A guard guides me back through the room where I see a glimpse of Pidge and Hunk looking at me questioningly. I can’t answer them obviously as the guard continues back the way we came and leaves me in the main hallway.

I stand there for a moment, stunned. What. The actual. Hell. What do I do now? Tonight’s plans are clearly blown to bits. What are we going to do? I guess I’ll have to wait outside until Pidge and Hunk are questioned and released and then we’ll figure what to do from there.

Before heading out, I decide to stop by my locker to grab my notebook and dirty uniforms to take home; use the walk to clear my head. But the hallways are eerily empty given the time. Usually by now the Garrison is teeming with students and staff. The emergency lights alternate from bright white and foreboding red. It’s a bit unsettling and I pick up the pace, eager to get my things and wait outside where there’s air to breathe.

But before I make it there a door opens just ahead of me and there stands the most gorgeous boy. Dark hair, dark eyes. Skin where there should be scales and absolutely nothing else. There before me stands the mer, very human, completely naked, and unabashedly so.

My mouth falls open and I squeak in surprise, but before my brain starts working again he takes ahold of my wrist and pulls me through the door, closing it behind us. It’s dark in here- we’re in a supply closet- but I saw enough for my mind to fill in blanks. Is it hot in here? My mind is still spinning. It takes entirely too long for me to realize he’s saying something and even longer to decipher his words. 

“You are going to get me out of here and take me back to the ocean,” he says slowly, deliberately. The shadows shroud him in darkness, but I can still see where his bangs, now dry, hang in his eyes. The intensity of his presence and heat in my chest make it hard to breathe. If he expects resistance, he doesn’t show surprise when I agree. And believe me, I can’t agree fast enough.

VLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLD

Keith’s POV:

Of all the things I expected this place to be, unbelievably boring had not come to mind. But after all the pain and panic, I’m left with nothing to occupy myself but this tank. Nothing but still water, rocks, sand, and the faces on the other side of the glass.

This means I have far too much time to think. And, as always, that means my mind has time to go dark places. I think about Shiro. About how I’ve failed him. I failed to find him, or even discover what happened to him. I had hope that he could still be alive, but this closed-in space and the low spirits its left me in has started to chip away that hope.

I may not know the whole story of what happened the night he disappeared, but I already know foul play was involved. And as my time here drags on, it starts to make less and less sense that Shiro would be kept alive.

Dizzy spells and headaches brought on by hunger bring up images that are better left forgotten. Things like Rolo’s mangled tail, Shiro’s severed arm, Sendek’s apathetic attitude to it all. Any appetite I might have had is chased away by those images. They sap the life from me, convincing me that even if I do somehow escape this place, there’s not much for me to go back to.

So I fight those images away as much as I can. I focus my scattered thoughts on other things. I think of cool waters and warm sunlight. I think of whale song; how much I miss the sound of life that carries on ocean currents. This place in so quiet it echoes my dark thoughts back at me. 

But most often I think of blue eyes and freckled skin; that radiant, smiling face I always saw in my dreams. And now I see them here. Right in front of me. I’ve already come to realize the vivid details and sensations in my dreams are more than that. They are memories of a life I’ve somehow forgotten. And that blue is the most vivid thing I’ve ever dreamed. No one else has eyes like that. Except for him.

He is here often, in the same obnoxious orange uniforms as the others who come. He is as beautiful as I’ve always dreamed him to be, but he’s here and he’s real. As real as my legs had been when I first discovered I could shift. He is a part of all of this somehow. An important part.

So whenever he’s here I try to piece it together. Who is he? Or, more specifically, who is he to me? And why have I been seeing him in my sleep for as long as I can remember? I never do get my answers, but it passes the time at least.

And then the man showed up. I had never seen him before, I have no idea what his name is. But I recognize something in him the way I recognize it within myself. He is a mer. And even more daunting, he is a Siren. The hunger in his eyes and the cool distance in his stance give him away. He is not like the others. He is not human.

At first I couldn’t understand why he was here. I can’t imagine a Siren would be sent to rescue me. I’m not that special. And he doesn’t seem like he’s intent on getting me out anyway. It’s like he knows I’m suffering and is taking great pleasure in it.

The look in his eyes when he watches me is chilling. It scares me even more than being watched back in the shoal, because even though I knew I was being followed, it was never as closely as this. Never this focused. He bides his time, spending days evaluating the conditions of my prison and nights evaluating me.

He is among the last to finally leave in the nights and early mornings, leaving me to the few hours I have completely to myself. And as much as I would love to use that time to relax and enjoy the freedom, I use it to practice my shifting. Whatever this place has planned for me and whatever that Siren has planned for me is not going to happen. Because I am getting out of here if it kills me.

VLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLD

It’s taken a lot of practice and I’ve had to force myself to eat at least a little bit to gain back some of my strength, but I’m able to shift completely in just a few minutes. It feels strange to have legs. Walking on them was harder than I expected it to be. And holding the shift is even harder, but I can’t stay here. I don’t have the time to keep practicing until its second nature. Slipping out of my scales and into skin is difficult to maintain, but I’ll have to do it soon if I want to get out of here at all. 

The early morning set in when the observation desks are finally empty. All the faces on the other side of the glass are gone and I have only a few hours to get out of here before someone shows up again. I wait a few minutes to make sure they aren’t going to come back for anything, but as soon as I’m sure, I dart to the surface to start the shift.

Nerves make the process slower. It’s hard to relax and let it wash over me when my heart is pounding so loud in my ears. When I open my eyes again, my fins are gone and replaced with feet and toes. I give them an experimental wiggle before standing slowly.

My movements are clumsy and my muscles feel heavy without the weightlessness of water. I’m dripping wet. My feet slip on the tile before I catch myself on a railing. The near-fall jostles my shoulder and the pain pulses over my joints and skin. It jolts my thoughts and I almost lose the transformation. I have to hold myself on the rail and will myself to relax before the fear of reverting back to a literal fish out of water eases away.

I’m taking longer to get through this than I’d like. I’m getting more sure in my steps, but the setbacks have taken more time than I’m comfortable with. I have no idea how much time I have before someone realizes I’m gone. I know I need to hurry, but I have no idea where I’m going.

There are so many hallways and doors. All of them leading who knows where and most of them locked. I see a few people as I go, but only glimpses and always at a distance. I’ve walked myself in circles, finding classrooms and massive aquarium spaces with tanks of sea animals, board rooms and tech centers. But no way out and I’m wasting time! How do I get out of here?!

At some point in my frustrated wandering I find a room with a window and a few things strike me at once. First: my time is running out. The darkness of night is fading, yielding to the soft grey of oncoming sunlight. And secondly: I am very far from the ocean. The landscape outside looks dry and desolate. There is nothing beyond the window but rolling hills of sand, rock, and a hint of mountains far on the horizon.

Nothing like the red clay canyons of the cove I was taken from. I have no idea where that is or how to get there from here. I don’t know how I’ll ever get back to the shoal. My chest feels tight and I have to focus on my breathing to calm down. My anxiety only worsens when the glass in the window won’t break.

I stumble back into the hall, my strides hurried, bare feet slapping loudly on cold floors. I’ve only rounded a few turns when the halls erupt with flashing lights and alarms. My time is officially up.

I dive through the closest unlocked door I find. My harsh breathing fills the darkness. I hear movement and voices outside my hiding place and shrink as far into the tiny space as I can. I can’t believe how unprepared I am. I don’t know why I thought getting out of here would be as simple as maintaining a shift and getting out of the building.

I had been unconscious for the transfer. I don’t know how far from the coast I am, but I have a feeling it’s a long way. I guess I hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t anticipated obstacles beyond the glass walls of the damn tank.

I can feel my scales slipping back in place. I fall to my knees as the joints fuse back together, the skin becoming increasingly red and reflective. The tiny space of the cluttered closet becomes even more cramped as my fins flare into place. I’ve lost the shift completely. And at the worst possible time.

When no one bursts in immediately to drag me back to the tank, I lay my hands flat on the cold tile floor and focus on slowing my breathing. I have no idea what my next step will be, but I have a better chance of getting out of here with feet than I do fins. One step at a time. I’ll figure this out.

I can almost hear Shiro scolding me for not thinking ahead. I can imagine his words and voice so easily its almost like he’s here in the room with me. That thought is sort of soothing. I concentrate first on quieting my frantic thoughts, then on letting my consciousness float. I can feel it working slowly. By the time I have legs again, the hallway outside is quiet. No voices. No footsteps. No alarms. Still flashing lights though.

Time passes slowly as I try to figure out what to do. There’s a small window in the door that allows me to see into the hall. I peek through it to see how often someone passes.  
Guards make their way through on occasion, but not often enough to time it.

And then I see him. The boy from my dreams. He is walking with purpose and I have only a moment to make a decision. I don’t know what it is about him, but my instincts tell me I can trust him. I just hope I can trust him with my life.

I burst through the door quickly, before he can pass. There’s a moment when my heart freezes, afraid I’ve just made a mistake and ruined any chances I had of getting away from this place. But the damage is done. He’s seen me and I can see the recognition on his face. He knows who I am.

Before he can make another sound beyond his squeak of surprise, I grab him and pull him into the closet, closing it quickly. Darkness closes in and the nervous energy in my blood threatens to bring back my fins. I have to talk slowly in order to keep my calm and keep my legs.

“You are going to get me out of here and take me back to the ocean.”

There’s the briefest of pauses while he processes and I almost melt to the floor with relief when he says yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had a great Christmas! :)


	9. To the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith make their escape.
> 
> Edit: So I didn't realize until now that the whole first chunk of this chapter just dropped off the face of the planet somehow! I edited it back in. It doesn't make a huge difference I guess, but still. Sorry about that guys. I don't know how that happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Lance’s POV. I’m not sure how I feel about this one, but revising it again and again isn’t making it any better. So here you go. Hope you like it!

We spent only a few more minutes in the closet, waiting to see that the hall outside remained empty. Hesitantly I slip through the door and instinctively glance back to make sure the mer is following and yup, yes, he- and all his naked glory- has slipped into the hall behind me. I snap my head back around, glad the red emergency lights are still flashing. Maybe they’ll help to cover how hot my face is getting.

I’ve abandoned my previous trek to my locker. Having actual clothes for the mer to put on might make getting out of here a bit easier- less suspicious if seen at a distance, and definitely less distracting for me- but we don’t have time and we can’t risk walking further into the facility only to have to sneak all that way back out.

I try not to notice how closely he’s following me either. Especially as we pause before turning corners to make sure the next walkway is empty and I feel his body beside me, looking over my shoulder. I’m embarrassed at how long it took me to think of giving him my jacket at least. I’ve had it clutched in my hand since walking in this morning. I look when I think it’s safe and that helps at least. My torso is longer than his and it hangs long enough to cover his…more intimate parts. But the sight doesn’t help keep my blush from creeping into my ears. He’s so cute in my jacket!

So I turn my focus decisively on leading the way out, avoiding anyone I see along the way. I go to turn another corner when the mer yanks me back. I can’t help it when my eyes shoot wide and my cheeks burn. It takes me a moment to realize he’s just saved me from being spotted by someone who’s just entered the opposite end of the long hall.

My adrenaline spikes as I realize it’s the man Iverson brought in; Pike or whatever. His dark form walks the length of the hall with purpose and we rush to find something to hide behind before he passes. His footsteps come closer, then pass. As I begin to relax, I notice the mer is shaking beside me, looking towards where the man just was.

“Who is he,” I whisper in case he’s still close enough to hear.

He shakes his head and says, “Someone bad.”

I set my jaw. A new wave of determination to save this boy overcomes me. “Come on, this way.”

The closer we get to the front doors of the Garrison, the more people we see. Some are guards. Some are people slowly trickling out from their own interrogation sessions. We have to time our movements a little more carefully as we go and finally we get within sight of the doors. We’re so close! But the path between us and the exit is occupied by several guards and a few students lingering after their questionings to gossip and wait for friends.

I scan the area, searching for some way past them all without getting spotted. If the mer were dressed in one of my Garrison uniforms, we might’ve been able to walk right past and I almost regret not going back to my locker first. Then I notice Pike standing near the guards as well as the other MFEs by the drinking fountain.

A uniform might be able to fool anyone else, but not them. They’ve all spent enough on the observation decks to recognize the mer even minus scales and fins the same way I did.

Backtracking and finding another way out will take too long. Or maybe I’m just stubborn because we are literally thirty feet from getting out scot-free. I can get us out of here. I just need to think.

My eyes linger on Pike. I can’t hear him from this distance, but I can only assume he’s harassing the guards for anything they might know about the mer. I feel something in my chest flare in intense protectiveness. I don’t know this Pike guy beyond the creeps he gives me, but I will do anything to make sure he never gets anywhere near the mer again.

Next, my eyes settle on Rizavi. She’s leaning against the wall, one hand on a popped out hip as she speaks. The others are scattered around her, listening to whatever it is she’s saying- minus Kinkade, who I assume is still being questioned. And in my mind’s eye I can see the unease she’s clearly felt over the past few days- all of them really. I know they’ve come to disagree with the mer’s treatment just as I have. And I make a decision.

I step out a bit from my hiding place and gesture to get her attention. When her eyes find me I frantically put my finger to my lips. She squints and I see Griffin shift like he was about to turn around before she says something and he freezes. I take a breath. No one else is looking this way but her. Rizavi is looking over Griffin’s shoulder with a question in her eyes and I hold up a finger, ‘hang on.’ I turn to the mer and he’s looking at me expectantly.

“Okay, I’m getting you out of here, but we need help. Just trust me okay?”

He hesitates before nodding. He looks scared and I understand. I’m afraid too. I just hope I can trust them as much as I think I can. I step back out and pull him with me so Rizavi can see him, gesturing between us, pointing toward the doors, then over to Pike and the guards and hope that she understands and that she’ll help.

Her eyes go wide for a second before her mouth snaps shut and she says a few words to the others. I watch as she leads them to rush right up to the guards and Pike exclaiming loudly that they’ve remembered something important and that they need to be taken back to Sanda.

Obviously this gets the attention of everyone present. Nosy students lean in to try to hear something juicy to tell their friends later. Even from my hiding place I can hear Pike demanding she tell him first and students are unabashedly gathering now in hopes of hearing too. The guards move to lead them away and I snap out of my stupor.

I grab ahold of the mer’s wrist and pull him after me. Those who do spare us a glance see nothing but two students rushing out- granted one is clearly naked from the waist down, but we receive a few laughs and a loud whistle and nothing more. No one follows us out the doors. I can’t help but laugh. That crazy stupid plan worked! I’m mentally thanking my teammates. For the tiniest second I was afraid they’d alert the guards to us.

But we made it! I pull the mer behind me in a rush of adrenaline to reach the car and get us out of here. The mer stubbles ever few steps and I force myself to slow down. He’s probably not used to running. My fingers fumble the keys clumsily as I unlock the car and let him into the passenger side.

And sooner than I could have hoped, we’re pulling out of the Garrison parking lot onto the only lonely road leading anywhere away from here. I’m sort of giddy from what we just pulled off and I glace over at the mer. He’s looking out the window, watching the desert pass. I want to say something, I want his eyes on me. So naturally I say something stupid.

“You should put your seat belt on.” So smooth.

He looks over at me with the most innocent eyes and his lips pursed. He clearly has no idea what I’m talking about. I hook a thumb under the belt across my own chest to demonstrate. “It’s for safety. You know, in case we crash.” Shut up Lance!

I look back to the road and search for a better conversation starter. I suppress a smile when I hear his belt click. “So… what- what’s your name?” I glance over at him again. He’s watching me closely and now I’m smiling despite myself.

“It’s Keith.”

“Keith?” My brows shoot up in surprise.

“….Yeah.”

“Huh. Keith.”

“What were you expecting?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Something fancy I guess, like Yorak or Akira or something,” another glance over and he’s making a face at me. My smile widens. “But Keith. It’s nice. Fits you.”

I can feel him staring at me.

“Why are you helping me?” 

It’s a blunt question, but not unfair. I hesitate because part of this started out as guilt. I saw what was happening to him and knew I was directly responsible for it. I didn’t like having that on my conscience, and I know that’s a selfish reason, but it’s the truth. But that’s not the only reason, or the biggest one. Not anymore. It’s become something bigger than that. It all seems so complicated in my head, so I go for the simplest of it all.

“Because, it’s the right thing to do,” I reply honestly.

He turns back toward the window, but I catch the little smile he’s trying to hide. Something in my chest swells proudly at putting it there. We drive in comfortable silence through town and to the highway that will take us toward the coast.

At one point, we pass through a long tunnel lined with yellow florescent lights. Something in the darkness of the closed in space triggers something in Keith. Suddenly he’s gasping and pawing at his chest and the glass of the window.

Emerging from the other side doesn’t help at all. The exposed skin of his legs bursts with splotches of bright red and for one horrified second I think he’s bleeding out. But then I see that the red spots are scales. He’s turning back into a mer. Right here in my car. 

His breathing is harsh. I recognize a panic attack when I see one and nothing I’m saying is helping; he doesn’t seem to hear any of it. By now he’s clawing at the window, little rows of tint peeling away under his nails, and it finally dawns on me to roll it down.

Air comes rushing in as it descends and slowly I’m able to calm him. His hair blows around his face wildly as he sucks in deep breaths. I glance down and his legs are caught in a bizarre middle phase where his fins are coming in, but I can still distinguish the image of elongated, webbed feet. He looks like he’s concentrating hard and I’m trying desperately to pull over, but no one is letting me over, cars honking obnoxiously at me as they speed by.

The situation is charged and I can hear myself saying, “What do I do? What do you need me to do,” because he can’t change back here. There’s no room. My car is tiny and his fins are long, his tail muscled. And I still don’t know how his lungs work. If he changes back, will he be able to breathe? We are nowhere near any body of water; another hour or so from the ocean at least.

But he is leaning further into the stream of air coming in from the open window and looks calmer. As I watch, the webbing of fins shrinks away, the spines of his tail retreating into individual toes. His brow is still furrowed as the scales retreat. The red is lingering and his lips sort of twitch in his effort to bleach it away.

I don’t know how he’s doing it. A horn jolts my attention back to the road. I veer back into my own lane, having drifted while watching him. Pay attention to the road Lance! I can hear him beside me, still breathing deeply. I think he’s back to passing as human again, but I don’t dare look.

“You okay,” I ask.

“Y-yeah, I just…I don’t like closed in spaces.” He still sounds a little shaken and a bit embarrassed. So I try to distract him.

“I didn’t know you could do that. I mean the morphing thing, or whatever.”

“I didn’t either, until recently.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No. It just feels weird. Like… flexing a cramped muscle.”

“Can… you still breathe above water in mer form?” 

He hesitates, then says, “Yeah. Underwater my gills and lungs work to filter the oxygen out of the water. Above the surface, they just take in the oxygen. It’s going back underwater after that that takes adjusting.”

My mind conjures up the image of the mer’s capture and things start to make sense. I remember the salmon color of his scales before he tried to leave the cove and the need for air that costed him his freedom. He had been shifting back when we got into place to cut off his exit. Security would have been a thousand times tighter if the Garrison knew he could do this. I’m so glad we hadn’t arrived at the cove a few minutes earlier. It would have made this escape of ours absolutely impossible.

Another part of my mind is reeling. I’ve learned more about the mer in the last hour than we did in a week of studying him in that tank. And he’s so much more than the specimen the Garrison sees. He’s awkward and shy, but bold and fierce. There’s a spark of life in him that refuses to die and I can’t help but be drawn to it.

I find myself dreading our destination. When we reach the ocean, he’ll leave. I’ll probably never see him again. Scratch that- I’ll definitely never see him again. After everything humans have done to him, he has no reason whatsoever to come anywhere near the shore or even the surface. Once he goes, he’ll be gone for good. I’m not sure why that thought leaves me feeling a little mournful; like I’m losing a friend.

“Huh,” he says beside me. I realize I’ve sort of zoned out and struggle to bring myself back to my surroundings.

“What?”

When he doesn’t immediately reply I glance over and feel all of the blood in my body rush to my face. Because all of his focus was down in his lap, where he seems to be discovering…things.

“What are you doing?!” Yes, I may have squawked at this, but I think given the circumstances I’m totally justified.

“This isn’t usually here before I shift. Is it a human thing?”

“It’s a private thing! You don’t just go around f-fondling yourself! Stop, stop!”

“Why’s it a secret?”

“It’s not! You just- you can’t- would you stop!”

“…,”

“…,”

“….does yours do that,” he asks and I hate myself for glancing over, and he’s getting hard, and fuck me! I pull into the dirt shoulder on the side of highway purely to cool down. I open my door and turn away to give him the tiniest sliver of privacy.

What the hell am I supposed to do in this situation? I am not about to give a merman a Sex Ed class while he’s sporting his first ever hard on. Nope! Not happening! Under any other circumstances I might have reacted differently, but Keith’s total innocence and lack of understanding shuts up any impulse I may have had to reply with something dirty. It’s too wrong for me take advantage of his ignorance. But I can’t just ignore the situation either. 

“….did I do something wrong?” His voice sounds small and anxious. Well shit. Now I’m a total ass for making him think that. I let out the longest sigh of my life before gathering my thoughts.

“No. You didn’t do anything. You’re fine, it- it’s just- that sort of thing is kind of personal. You- you don’t really do it around others. Or, well you can, I guess, b-but it’s intimate. Special, not- it’s not the sort of thing you do with a stranger.” How did I ramble myself into the Birds and the Bees Speech?

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay I just…,” I don’t really know how to proceed from here.

“…it’s not going away.”

I try to convince myself that I could keep driving like nothing, but I can’t deny that I find Keith attractive, and the image in my head is making it hard to think much less concentration on the road. I've already almost crashed my car on the highway. I need to be completely focused if I'm going to get us where we're going safely.

“Okay, um, maybe just try to think of something. Tell me about your home. What’s it like where you’re from?”

He doesn’t respond for a while and I wonder if it’s because he still feels like he’s done something wrong. I don’t know what to do to alleviate that, but then he’s talking and genuine curiosity allows me to listen closely.

“I miss Shiro,” he says quietly.

“Who’s that?”

“My brother. Well, sort of. He took me in. He’s the closest thing I’ve got to having a family,” he says quietly, and although I still have my back to him, I can hear a hitch in his voice that tells me just how important this person is to him. “He’s missing. I think… I think he might be dead.”

He sniffs quietly.

“Why do you think he’s dead?”

“I- I guess I don’t. Not really. I just need to know what happened the night he disappeared. If I never get to find him alive… or dead. I just want to know what happened to him.”

He’s quiet for another while. This silence is more somber than tense. When he does talk again, it’s so quiet I almost miss it.

“…do you remember me?”

Remember him? How would I, aside from the events following his capture? The question seems so left-field. “You mean from your time at the Garrison, or…,”

“No, I mean, from before. I don’t seem… familiar to you? At all?”

I contemplate telling him about the few times I glimpsed him in the cove before reporting it to Iverson. It’s the only other context I can think that he’d be talking about, but that seems wrong. It’s definitely not the answer he’s looking for, so I keep it to myself and answer with a simple no. The quiet after that is long and occupied only by the sound of cars passing us on the highway.

“You can turn around now,” he says. I shift back into my seat. He has adjusted my jacket to cover his lap up to the middle of his thighs and is back to looking out the window. He looks sort of defeated. I’m not sure what to make of it. I definitely didn’t help. How do I keep making things worse?

I ease us back into traffic wondering if there’s any way I can bring a smile back to his face, even a faint one. And I know it’s dumb. I know that. And with anyone else I would feel too self-conscious to do this, but there’s something about Keith that’s calming, assuring.

My voice starts out quiet, but the song fills me with warmth. It reminds me of every time my mama sang to me when I hurt myself while playing, when my dog ran away and we never found him, or when someone called me a racial slur for the first time. Her voice never fixed anything- it never stopped the bleeding or righted whatever wrong I’d suffered, but it always gave the promise that someone cared, that things would be okay.

From the edge of my vision I can see Keith peering over at me shyly. He doesn’t react beyond that, but the sadness in his posture has seeped away and however small that victory may be, I’ll take it. The rush of wind through Keith’s open window muffles my voice a bit, but that’s okay. The song’s melody is sort of slow and flows like water. When it ends we’re both left to our thoughts, the road stretching on and the desert vast to either side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note here: You can’t tell me a mer can shift into a human and not be curious about the new things between their legs that weren’t there before. After the whole, ‘Hey, look legs!’ thing passed, they’d discover and be curious about those things too. Anyway, till next time! <3


	10. The Cove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith arrive at the cove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts out in Lance’s POV and switches to Keith at the VLD line. There will be a reminder there to make it clear. 
> 
> *WARNING: there is mention of a character death in this chapter. Sorry in advance.*

The sun glitters off the horizon, the ocean stretching out beyond the cliffs, and the cove opening below us. This spot is somewhat remote; it’s around noon by the time I finally get us here, and to be completely honest, I hadn’t exactly been rushing. The rest of the car ride here had been in relative silence, but it was a peaceful one.

Keith had leaned into the wind from the window, eyes closed and hair blowing back from his face. Basking in the growing warmth of the day, he looked like a free spirit. I’m not even sure if he noticed the turn in his lips- the smallest hint of a smile so quiet it seemed private. Somewhere along the way, that content freedom became contagious. The sunlight felt warmer, the breeze refreshing.

I didn’t realize how much time I’ve been spending at the Garrison, in the same grey hallways, wearing the same orange uniform, staring into tank after tank. How long had it been since I took a day for myself? I know I haven’t exactly been locked away against my will like Keith, but I found myself appreciating the ride nonetheless.

So I may have slowed down quite a bit, taking the more scenic route to the cove once we actually got within sight of the ocean. But now we’re here and Keith is carefully picking his way down the cliff face into the cove ahead of me. Our little adventure is coming to a close. He’ll reach the water and change back and that’ll be it. He’ll be gone and I’ll have to make that whole drive back by myself. Somehow the thought saps out the little warm feeling in my chest.

I follow Keith down the rocky slopes into the heart of the cove. The walls of the canyon create a shelter here. The cool breeze above isn’t nearly as strong by the time I reach the rocks jutting out over the water.

Keith has stopped here, staring down into the churning shallows. His brow is furrowed and he’s got his bottom lip caught between his teeth in thought. I’m not sure why he’s hesitating. He takes another moment to sort through his thoughts and then gives a deep sigh. Slowly, he steps out onto a sunbathed rock jutting out over the water.

His back is to me when he sheds my jacket, and I feel like I should be mortified at the fact that he is again fully naked, but my eyes catch on the wounds his nakedness reveals. The ones in his hip and back look very irritated, but the one in his shoulder looks the worst. The skin there is an angry red and swollen- it looks to be in the beginning stages of infection. It looks painful. I know I’m right when he reflexively reaches for it, his hand settling awkwardly on his arm instead- the stiffness in his stance shows how much it’s bothering him.

“Look, I know that finding out what happened to your brother is important, but your wounds are just going to keep getting worse. And ocean water isn’t sterile. It’ll expose you to all kinds of bacteria and if they get fully infected your body could go into shock, or worse.”

His shoulders sag and instead of moving to leave or turning back toward me, he lowers himself down so that he’s sitting on the rock face with his feet dangling over the edge. I follow his lead, pointedly looking out at the scenery rather than at Keith. The sounds of the open ocean beyond the cove and sea gulls overhead filter down to us.

Beside me Keith growls in frustration. And I get it. Or at least I think I do. If something happened to Veronica, or Marco or any of my family, I would do whatever I could to find them- whether I thought they could be dead or not. The threat of infection and the subsequent consequences would hardly stop me. But I’ve seen how quickly an infection can take a life. It’s painful, ugly, and preventable if treated quickly and properly.

“Part of my role at the Garrison is to help treat the wounded when they’re brought in from rescues. I can help patch you up,” I offer. “It might be worth taking a couple days to recover… you know after everything?”

VLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLDVLD 

Keith:

Honestly, at this point I’m so exhausted. The moment the cove came into view, everything seemed to come together to weigh me down. The mental and physical stresses of captivity, the physical pain of my injuries, the shame at the scale I’ve lost and will never be able to grow back- on top of Shiro going missing and knowing someone high in the hierarchy of my shoal is responsible for it. There is so much beyond my power. I hate feeling so helpless. 

The past few hours with Lance have been the first time in…I’m not even sure how long, that I’ve been able to sit back and take a breath. A true, free breath with no one watching, monitoring, observing, expecting something of me. All of that will end the moment I go back. 

In that tank, I spent so much time throwing myself into the glass walls out of anger or frustration, but it never solved anything. I was stuck in the same pointless act, but it didn’t heal my injuries, it didn’t scare off the people watching, and it never got me out. But I think I did end up learning something from it. I can’t go back to searching for answers the same way I did before. I’ll run into the same walls I did before and get nowhere. I need to find a way around it.

In the back of my mind I hear Lance pointing out the dangers of my injuries getting worse. I have to stifle a smile at his concern. Merfolk, like dolphins and sharks, have pretty accelerated rates of healing ourselves of major wounds like these. The stale, chemically imbalanced conditions of the tank had stunted that healing. Now that I’m free, the wounds should heal and scar on their own.

If anything, this reaffirms the impressions I’ve gotten from Lance, both from my dreams of him and from the brief time I’ve spent with him in person. If I had doubts before, they are far from my mind now. I knew Lance once. My memories of him come to me in dreams.

And when he sang. I know he did it in attempts to make me feel better, but his voice, the words, the melody, all of it- he has sung to me before. I saw it clearer than any dream I’ve ever had. I remembered.

I had been sitting on his bed, an envelope in my hands. I had been afraid of opening it, afraid of knowing what it would tell me. He sat with me, a beacon of reassurance. And comfort. I remember finally gaining the courage to open it and read the report.

‘Based on the evidence provided for DNA Analysis, the sample from the alleged mother, Krolia Marmora, matches the 21 loci profile of the child, Keith Kogane, by a margin of 99.99%.’

It meant that I finally had my answer. I now knew who my mother was. ‘Was’ being the operative word. Because while this report confirmed the identity of my mom, it also confirmed that my mother was gone. Krolia Marmora had been killed less than a year previous in some sort of gang dispute.

I didn’t know how to feel about it. I was relieved to have my answer after years of not knowing who my mother was; no name or face to associate with the word. I now had her picture. She was beautiful. And while I didn’t know her story, what her life was like, or why she left me, I had for the first time, the tools to find out.

But I had lost just as much as I’d gained. Because she was dead. Gone before I could meet her myself and ask her my questions in person. I could do all I could to track down information, try to piece it all together, but I’d never know her. Not really. As much as I tried not to, I had cried. Lance hadn’t judged me for it. He held me. And sang to me. Just as he had in the car. 

That memory had left me with a mess of mixed feelings. Back in the shoal, I had believed my mother to have died of illness while I was young, and Shiro had taken me in as a result. I’ve already come to suspect that the memories I have were somehow false, but this is just more confirmation of manipulation at work. Absently, I remember staring at Krolia’s picture and wondering what her voice had sounded like; if she would like the person I had become. I wonder what ever happened to that picture. 

While my suspicions are proving true- I did know him once- he doesn’t remember me. I don’t understand. How do I have these memories of him, scattered and hazy as they are, and he doesn’t remember me at all? A dark, hateful corner of mind hisses that I’m just that forgettable, but I push that thought away as best I can. Just as it is was Shiro’s disappearance, there is more going on here.

But going searching for answers the way I have been has gotten me nowhere but a research tank. Going back to the shoal won’t help me at all either unless I can change how I’m going about this. It’s time to change tactics. And I know exactly where to start. I’ve already recognized Pike as a Siren. He must know something; his showing up at the Garrison can’t be a coincidence. And as a Siren, he’s in a position to answer my questions about Shiro and about Lance.

“Maybe, just long enough to heal a bit?” At the sound of his voice, I look over and Lance is peering at me, waiting for an answer before quickly averting his eyes. His cheeks are flushed and I’m beginning to recognize that his bashfulness is in response to my nudity. I move his jacket to cover myself again. Are all humans so adverse to something as simple as being exposed? Or is it just Lance?

Either way I find myself amused and he seems more able to look me in the eye. Every gesture of kindness he’s shown me makes him seem all the more sweet. I’d be glad to indulge him; let him treat my wounds, and use my time on land to get the answers I couldn’t at sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I hope it conveyed Keith’s reasoning okay. Til next time! :)


	11. To Catch a Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance takes Keith home and we meet Lotor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter is in Keith’s POV, then switches to Lance for the rest of the chapter at the first VLD line.

“This plan of yours is nuts.”

“It’s the best option I have,” I answer, grabbing another nacho from the take out container in my lap. After deciding to extend my stay on land, we hiked back up to the car and began making our way back to Lance’s apartment.

I decided to use the ride to tell Lance what’s going on and what I plan to do. It’s partially just to help me organize my thoughts by speaking them aloud, but telling someone about all this mess is also sort of a relief. Shiro had been the only one I ever shared my doubts with and once he was gone, I was left with no one. I didn’t realize how hard it’s been having to keep all of this to myself until I had someone to listen.

At some point during the drive my stomach growled loudly, reminding me of how little I’ve been eating lately. Lance immediately wanted to take me to a dine- in restaurant to celebrate my ‘first meal as a free mer’, but regrettably settled for a drive thru dash when he realized my nakedness might not go over well in a restaurant.

I was hesitant, but have since discovered that I really like nachos. I don’t necessarily remember them, but I just know they used to be a favorite of mine. Once Lance finished his tacos, we were back on the road and I continue to pick over my food.

“You said that the Garrison shut down all non-essential personal until they figure out what happened, er…to me. Does that include Pike?”

“Honestly I’m not sure. I don’t think so,” Lance says as he changes lanes. He thinks he’s subtle when he tries to sneak a nacho. I swat his hand away and he pouts as he continues.  
“He’s only been there for a short time and only to help improve conditions for you. With you gone, I don’t think they’d keep him around. But then again, if they think he knows something they might? I- I just don’t know.”

“Great. If he’s not at the Garrison, I’m not sure where to find him.”

“Maybe before that you should focus on getting better. You’re not exactly ready for a fight.”

I suppose he’s actually right about that. Merfolk may heal faster than humans, but I am still hurt, drained, and malnourished. I might not know what all a Siren does, but I do know they can fight and in my current condition, I’m definitely not ready to take one on. Which means I will have to take some time to recuperate.

I’m sort of okay with that though. The more time I spend with Lance, the more things in my head become clearer. I haven’t had another full-fledged flashback since Lance sang to me, but I do get these impressions; like a memory I feel more than see. Like this: thwarting another nacho thievery attempt while sitting passenger side.

Lance’s driving almost rivals the elderly and I’m certain I’ve had that thought before. He had hooked up his Aux cord for the drive back and his playlist consists of an awful lot of Lady Gaga and Ke$ha. It’s not exactly my taste, but I know every word. I’m pretty sure that’s Lance’s doing.

That’s another thing. I haven’t brought up that part again. He says he doesn’t remember me. There must be a reason for that, the same way I hadn’t exactly remembered him. I’m getting bits here and there- and it’s obviously not the full picture- but I get the impression that we were close once. Really close. I haven’t really pinpointed the nature of our relationship yet. Were we just friends? Or something else? Something more?

But even as I try to piece it all together, he has no memory of any of it. Whatever we were before- to him, we are no more than we are now. And what exactly is that? Are we acquaintances? Friends? Technically today is the first period of time we’ve spent with each other one on one, if you don’t count the night I nearly drowned him. And I’m pretty sure friends don’t try to drown friends. But then I guess I never had many of those and none of us were capable of drowning so…

The sun is high and hot when we pull into Lance’s parking spot. He glances anxiously every direction before ushering me out of the car and rushes me up the stairs. I’m not sure if it’s purposeful or an accident when he follows behind me instead of ahead and I’m pretty sure the stairs are giving peeks from under his jacket. His cheeks are prominently red when we reach the landing and he fumbles for his keys.

As we slip inside I hear someone wolf whistle and yell, “Nice goin’ McClain!” Lance slams the door shut like it’ll trap the comment outside. He determinedly avoids eye contact as he passes me and I follow with a grin. We arrive in his room and I stand awkwardly in his doorway while he continues into the adjoining room. I’m not really sure what to do with myself, shifting from foot to foot until I see movement on his bed.

After a long stretch and a yawn that reveals a pink tongue, the little grey cat steps over to the end of the bed looking at me with intense green eyes. We watch each other for a moment and then Lance is bumbling back into the room with his hands full of medical supplies.

“Oh that’s Blue,” he says when he sees us. “She’s a Russian Blue. She’s got a lot of fur, but if you pet it all down to a part you can see that her skin is actually blue.” I step closer and she blinks at me. I can see her nose twitching.

“You can pet her if you want. She’s pretty friendly. Here I’ll introduce you.” He sets all the supplies down on the bed and reaches for my hand. I give it and let him lead me closer.  
He urges me to my knees beside him and offers my fingers to her to sniff.

After a few seconds of smelling me she nuzzles her head and cheeks against my hand. I give her chin a gentle scratch and am rewarded with a loud purr. I glance over at Lance, excited that I’ve earned her trust and he’s smiling at me. We both look away quickly.

The next few minutes are quiet, but for that purr as Lance uses a washcloth to wash my wounds. This required me to shed the jacket again and I wordlessly moved it to cover my lap. That doesn’t stop him from blushing and hyper-focusing on his actions. Or maybe he’s just that focused. Throughout the process Blue is aggressively petting herself on my arm and side, meowing when she thinks I’m not paying her enough attention.

Lance carefully applies some cream to each wound. He takes some extra time on the one at my shoulder, fingers gentle over the areas that are especially swollen. The ache pulses at his touch, but the cream is cool. It feels amazing on my overheated skin.

Then he places gauze patches over each wound, using medical tape to keep them in place. When he’s done he sits back and looks over his work before meeting my eyes. Clearing his throat, he quickly gathers the supplies to put them away.

“So that should help,” he says from the bathroom. “We’ll have to make sure to keep them clean and dry for now so sorry, but probably best to not shower.” 

That’s fine by me because I’m not sure what he’s talking about. “Anyway,” he says as he reenters the room and plops down on the bed, “I guess for now you can just hang out, rest… do you want a nap? I can go chill in the living room for a while or- Oh my God!”

Blue and I both jump at his outburst.

“What, what’s wrong?”

“I totally just left Pidge and Hunk,” he yells as he rushes around the room, putting his shoes back on and grabbing his keys. “We drove to the Garrison together this morning and I took the car! Shit!” That last comment is directed at his phone where there are apparently a number of texts and missed calls from his friends.

“I gotta go pick them up. I’m sorry. Uh, okay, anything in the fridge is up for grabs, the remote’s on my nightstand if you want to watch TV or something- I’ll be back in a while. I’ve got some sweats in the first drawer of my dresser that’ll probably fit you and, uh, just close the door if you want to nap so I know not to bug you. I’m sorry!”

His voice gets smaller as he rushes from the room. I hear his cussing cut off when he closes the front door and then it’s just me and Blue. She fixes me with her green gaze and meows expectantly. I chuckle to myself as I oblige.

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Lance:

The figures of Hunk and Pidge come into view as I pull up to the front of the Garrison. Hunk is laying on the ledge of a planter, basking in the sun and Pidge is pacing back and forth in front of him until she sees me pull up. She spreads her arms in a gesture that clearly reads, ‘What the hell?’

She taps Hunks stomach and grabs her things, walking to the car with Hunk close behind. When they reach the doors I unlock them apologizing profusely as Pidge clambers into the passenger seat and Hunk scooches into the middle seat in the back.

“I’m so sorry guys! I don’t know how I forgot- I didn’t mean-,”

“Lance,” Pidge starts as I turn out of the parking lot.

“Hang on Pidge, I know that was messed up and I totally abandoned you guys there. But I swear I didn’t-,”

“Lance-,”

“And I missed all your calls and texts, which was totally my bad,”

“Lance, I’m not mad okay,” she finally gets out.

“Wha- you’re not? But I stranded you guys!”

“Okay here, I’ll clarify: I’m not mad yet. There were a lot of rumors going around and we didn’t know what to believe. But if it turns out to be true that you ditched us for some guy you started getting freaky with at the Garrison, then yes- I’ll be mad.”

I try to keep my expression neutral at that because there is definitely basis for those rumors.

“We were worried man,” Hunk interjects, leaning forward to talk between me and Pidge.

“Worried?”

Pidge frowns, then sighs and agrees, her voice softer. “Yeah, after you were escorted out, they continued questioning people, but it took them forever to get to us and when we were released and we realized you were gone, we started asking around if anyone knew where you were.”

“And then we heard that Pike guy disappeared,” Hunk supplies.

“Wait what?”

“The whole Garrison is going nuts. When they tried to bring him in for questioning, he was gone. He’s still missing and there were a bunch of other rumors that you accused him of being responsible for the mer vanishing,” Pidge leans closer like she’s trying to gauge my expression.

“I don’t know,” she continues. “They were just rumors, but then you were gone and not answering your phone. We thought maybe he did have something to do with it and you got caught up in it somehow. It was either that or stranding us so you could take some half naked guy home,” she finishes and the look on her face seems like she’s can’t decide which option is worse.

There’s a pause that I let hang a little too long. When I try to salvage the conversation, it just comes out awkward and stunted. “Uh, well actually- things got a little…complicated after I left questioning.”

“I knew it! You did get caught up in it didn’t you,” she exclaims so suddenly I jump in my seat. She tries to hide it, but I can see that she’s relieved I didn’t ditch them to hook up with some guy.

Hunk groans and mutters, “Oh Lance.”

“No, I mean yes, but- look, I was wrong okay. Pike is definitely involved, just not how I originally thought.”

“Alright McClain spill,” Pidge points an accusing finger. “You know what’s going on and you’re beating around the bush.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just not sure how to explain.”

I expect them to counter with frustration or something alike, but the car is silent and a glance over to them reveals them waiting quietly for me to continue.

“Okay, well…Keith got out on his own, and I sort of helped to smuggle him out of the Garrison,” I say. Not the best explanation, but it’s a start. By now the desolate road has led back to town and I maneuver through traffic toward the apartment. I’m hoping I can explain things before we get there. But that only leaves a few more minutes.

“Who’s Keith?”

“Uh, the mer.”

“You got him out on your own,” Hunk asks. “How’d you manage that?”

“Well,” I huff a breath that was supposed to be a laugh, but sounds more like a sigh, “That rumor of the half-naked guy?”

“Yeah?”

“That was Keith. He- he can shift into a human- apparently.” Neither of them responds so I just keep going. “He shifted and, well…we walked out.”

The silence stretches on in which Pidge’s glasses go crooked from the face she’s making and Hunk brows have vanished beneath his headband.

“So,” Pidge starts slowly. “You’re saying we spent all this time planning to betray the Garrison and figuring out how to break him free, and he just walked out of there like nothing?”

I nod and she pushes her glasses back up her nose. “Huh. Mission accomplished I guess.”

“So…,” Hunk says as I pull once more into my parking space. “Where is he now?”

“He’s here. In the apartment.”

“Oh Lance,” Pidge groans. “Tell me you don’t have him in the bath tub or something.”

“No, I- oh come on, let’s just go up.”

We all go up the stairs silently and before I open the door, I remember something. “Oh, and try to keep it down. I’m not sure if he’s asleep. He looked pretty tired when I left.”

The apartment is quiet when we enter. For a second I imagine that all of this was in my head; like Keith will be gone and I’ll just look pretty dumb, but the door at the end of the hall is cracked a bit. Pidge peeks inside then turns back to me with a grin.

“There’s a naked guy in your bed. You sure you’re not just making up some elaborate story to cover your hook up,” she teases.

“I told him where my sweats are,” I defend, peering over her. Keith is spread eagle on the bed, fast asleep with Blue perched perfectly on his chest. I turn away quickly and snatch 

Pidge by the elbow, pulling her back down the hallway. Hunk hurries ahead of us, having followed us to my door to see too.

“So merfolk have the ability to shift into humans,” Pidge asks once we’re back in the living room. “How have we never known that?” And then her eyes go wide. “That means anyone could be a mer and we wouldn’t even know it. What are the limits?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not know? You spent all day with him didn’t you,” and then her face takes on a devious sneer. “What have you been doing all day with…Keith was it? Who has managed to stay suspiciously clothless all this time.”

“Get your head out of the gutter Pidge. I’ve been good.”

“Not to bring down the mood or anything,” says Hunk with his hand raised like he’s in a classroom. “But what are you going to do with him? The Garrison is on a warpath to find him and right now they’re focused on that Pike guy, but if they can’t find him, they’ll probably retrace their steps in the investigation. And, well, you were among the last people to see him in the tank before he disappeared. Plus Pike is-,”

“A problem. I know,” I answer. I’m definitely not as eloquent as Keith was with me as I explain everything. About halfway through Pidge grabs my laptop and begins typing furiously. Hunk occasionally asks a question, some of which I can’t answer, but I cut myself off when I hear the soft sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Their progress pauses and then there is a dark head of hair and curious eyes peeking around the corner.

“Oh- hey Keith,” I say and hope to all that is holy that he’s put some pants on. “It’s okay, these are my friends.”

He hesitantly steps into the room, biting his lip. And yes, blessedly he is wearing a charcoal grey pair of my sweats. In the back of my mind I think I may have discovered a new kink of mine because seeing him in my jacket and then in my sweats on the same day is driving me a little crazy.

“Hi, I’m Hunk,” he leaves his place on the couch to greet Keith. Hilariously Keith stares confused at the hand Hunk offers to shake. Hunk drops his hand and continues seamlessly by offering up anything of the fridge. Meanwhile Pidge has set my laptop aside and is studying Keith up and down.

“Huh, hey can I see your legs?”

Keith pauses, then awkwardly hikes up the legs of the sweats and she crouches to get a better look. “They’re so convincingly human. You would never suspect…,” she catches herself mid-thought and stands quickly, fixing her glasses. “Sorry, you’re probably tired of being studied.”

“Kinda yeah,” he says as he lets the sweats fall back down his legs with visible relief.

“Sorry,” she repeats looking guilty. “If I’m ever overstepping my bounds, feel free to tell me. I can’t help it sometimes. I’m Pidge.” Rather than offer a hand to shake, she gives a little smile.

There’s a moment in which Keith looks distinctly stricken. His brows are creased like he’s been given a confusing riddle and his lips purse like he’s trying to sound out the answer.  
He only snaps out of it when Pidge turns back and plops onto the couch, retrieving my laptop and typing on.

She is rambling something about knowing that both he and I are out of harm’s way means she can finally be truly satisfied at the mess that is currently the Garrison in the wake of this morning’s events.

“Ha, listen to this: They posted a notice to the Garrison website offering a reward to anyone with information on the mer’s disappearance and/or whereabouts. Do they realize how many people will probably come forth with fake info just for kicks? Never mind the ones taking their shot at the reward money. Dumbasses. They must really be desperate.”

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but Sanda was borderline manic when the board questioned me,” says Hunk from the kitchen. He’s pulled a chair from the breakfast bar, turning it to face us with a grin. “Her eye kept twitching. I was so scared I would laugh.”

“Please. I was cracking up. This whole situation was too funny to keep a straight face,” says Pidge looking very pleased with herself. “That pissed her off. If she didn’t hate me before, she definitely does now.”

“I think I was too nervous to see the humor,” I say from my place next to Pidge on the couch. “I was too afraid they somehow knew what we were planning.”

“Planning?” Keith still stands awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“Well, we were sort of already planning to help you escape,” I supply. “Tonight actually. You sort of threw a wrench in that plan.” It was meant to be a joke, but Keith frowns and looks down to the floor.

“But hey, it’s okay. It all worked out right? You’re free.”

“You were already going to help me escape?” His voice is quiet, like he’s talking to himself more than he is to us.

“Yeah,” Hunk pipes up. “It was Lance’s idea. We’ve been planning for almost a week now.”

He looks back up at me and I blush under his stare. “Yeah, but Pidge did most of the plotting stuff and Hunk was in charge of gathering our supplies. I- I didn’t really do much.” 

His mouth twitches into the tiniest smile. He tries to hide it by turning to sit in the beanbag chair, but I spotted it anyway. He lets out a surprised ‘ooof’ when he sinks into the chair and tries to adjust his weight; that reaction is probably the cutest thing I’ve seen today.

“So…what are we gonna do while the Garrison is shut down,” Hunk asks.

“Sleep in,” Pidge answers so fast it’s clear that she’s already thought about this. She has a dreamy look on her face as she continues. “I will get up no earlier than noon and it will be glorious.”

I try to make a joke about how sad it is that the first thing we’d do with free time is finally catch up on sleep, but it lacks the humor I was going for because it’s completely true. I know Hunk and I are definitely not setting any morning alarms again until we absolutely have to.

The atmosphere after that is sort of awkward for a time, or at least it seemed to be for Keith. I know my friends well enough to know when they were uncomfortable or at ease. Conversation ebbed and flowed and Keith sat quietly through most of it, sitting stiffly, and continuously biting his lip or unconsciously fidgeting with the bandages at his shoulder.

But by sunset he relaxed into the beanbag chair, smiling at Hunk’s stories, and laughing at Pidge’s jokes. At some point Blue jumped into his lap, curling up and purring loudly as he scratched her chin and behind her ears. 

We stayed up pretty late talking and watching movies. I may have insisted that we watch ‘The Little Mermaid’, cause, come on how could we not? Keith had a… different take on it.

“But how could she really think she loves him? She’s literally never even spoken to him before!”

“It’s love at first sight Keith! It’s a thing,” I argue.

“She doesn’t know anything about him! He could be a jerk or a psycho.”

“She’s following her heart!”

“His kingdom is near the coast right? Which means they probably rely mainly on fishing for food and economy. He could be responsible for the mass murder of her fish friends!”  
Hunk laughs and Pidge pipes in with a quick, “He has a point there.”

“You don’t know that!”

“He could be gay.”

“But he’s not!”

“But how would she know? She never talked to him.”

“She heard him talking about finding the right girl-,”

“She was eavesdropping, you mean,” he says with a sneer.

I fix him with the most affronted look I can muster. “Why are you determined to ruin this movie for me?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense. She’s leaving behind her friends, family, and life to get with a guy she knows nothing about.”

“She’s taking a chance for love, you heartless guppy.”

Keith laughs. The sound is full and warm. I like his laugh and I sort of forget my fierce defense for the movie in favor of committing that sound to memory. I don’t think he laughs like that often.

When the movie is over we start another and proceed to pay no attention to it. At some point in the night Pidge bids us goodnight, walking the few doors down to her own apartment. Hunk stayed up with us for another half hour or so before excusing himself to his room with a not-so-subtle smile and thumbs up sent my way.

Keith’s voice gets more gravely as the night goes on and his eyelids droop every now and then. I offered to sleep on the couch and he take my bed, but he declined.

“I don’t want to get up. She’s too cute,” he whispers, referring to Blue who is still curled in his lap, her stomach slightly exposed in her sleep. He strokes her belly gently, then swipes his thumb lightly over her whiskers. She curls in tighter, her paws coming up to hold her face as she snuggles into him. Keith smiles and I mirror it.

I don’t really remember falling asleep that night. I remember whispers and hushed laughs. Sleepy eyes and the soft sounds of cars passing on the street below. I don’t remember everything we talked about. But I do remember thinking how right it all felt. I do remember trying to stay awake as long as I could to stay in the moment. I do remember Keith’s chin falling to his chest when he couldn’t stay awake any longer. I do remember thinking his lashes looked dark against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. By morning light, I don’t remember wondering what those lips taste like, if they really are as soft as they look.

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It’s late into the morning by the time I wake to the smell of bacon and the sight of Keith draped awkwardly over the beanbag chair, Blue sprawled out on his back looking regal as ever.

I stretch out the kinks in my back, not quite able to regret how they got there. ‘Worth it,’ I think as I stand and scratch my chest. I turn toward the delicious smells from the kitchen only to find Hunk with his elbows on the counter and his chin in his hands.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Mmmm,” I answer eloquently because I just woke up, give me a minute.

“How’d it go,” he continues.

I glare at him as best I can with sleepy eyes, then yawn as I shuffle down the hall to the bathroom to answer morning’s call. I hear a faint, “I’ll take that as well,” from behind me and I groan. After I wash my hands I splash some water on my face and try to finger- comb the cowlick out of my hair.

By the time I make it back to the others Keith is blinking the sleep from his eyes, Blue having wondered over to sit in the kitchen windowsill. Hunk used to protest her getting up there because she nibbled on the herbs he kept there, but I didn’t know how to get her to stop. I’ve since noticed that he swapped out the most vulnerable ones with cat-safe grasses. It is now one of her favorite spots of graze and sun herself.

While she drinks in the warm sunlight, Hunk is dulling out servings of eggs, bacon, and strawberry pastries. I claim my stool at the breakfast bar eagerly and slowly Keith joins me looking like he may still be half asleep. I do feel a little bad for that. We may have stayed up pretty late last night and here I am preaching his need for proper rest. I still can’t bring myself to really regret it though.

“I was thinking of visiting with Shay today,” Hunk says. “So you kiddies should have the place to yourselves.” He sends me a wink and I hope my glaring game is a little stronger now that I’m more awake.

I attempt quickly to change the subject. “So Keith, we’ll need to change those bandages. Give the wounds a few minutes to breathe, but clean dressings will help stave off the infection.”

I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear a word of that though because he’s sitting very straight in his chair, eyes closed, and chewing slowly. When he finally swallows, he opens his eyes, going in for another bite. “How did you make this so good,” he says and I already know Hunk is blushing. He always does when people compliment his food.

“My moms taught me a lot of really good recipes and, well, I sort of grew up in the kitchen,” he responds.

Keith is savoring another bite and I get it. I remember the first time I tasted Hunk’s cooking. It was a long time ago, but I had a similar reaction. My momma is a great cook, and I remember being amazed that food she didn’t cook could also be so good. I have always been spoiled I guess.

I’m enjoying watching Keith discover the wonder that is Hunk’s talent, when I hear my phone chime across the counter where I left it to charge last night. I reach to grab it and open my screen to see a text from Pidge. I’m surprised she’s awake. She swore no sooner than noon, but habits are hard to break and we’re all used to getting up at ungodly hours.

Looks like she has an idea of who to ask about finding Pike. And I’m not happy about it. He’s not my favorite person, to put it nicely. But Lotor does work partly in the file rooms, so he might know where to start. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I’m not sure though if he qualifies as essential personnel or not. Will he be at the Garrison or elsewhere? I get the feeling though that if I’m planning to seek him out to find Pike than the Garrison will too. Which means he’ll likely be at the facility.

And that means I can’t take Keith with me. Before I can wonder what I’ll do about that, Pidge sends another text. She’s coming over. I go to let her in and she makes an immediate b-line for the pastries.

“Damn the stupid Garrison. I don’t have to get up early FOR ONCE, and I still wake up early,” she says as she opts out of sitting in a chair and hops up on the counter instead.

“It’s eleven o’clock,” Hunk counters.

Pidge takes a generous bite, leaving strawberry smeared on her lips, groaning as she chews, then swallows and says darkly, “No. Sooner. Than. Noon.”

Hunk just chuckles. Pidge turns her attention to me. “So, what do you think? It’s a start.”

“Why him,” I complain.

“Because he’s the only one who has access to the record room that might actually tell us where to find Pike.”

Keith immediately perks up, listening closely.

“Anyone else will be more tight-lipped, but Lotor was never one for rules. Even if Sanda’s already gone sniffing there, he could still spill the beans to us.”

“Yeah, but he’ll want something. He won’t tell us just cause we ask.”

“Which is why…we bribe him,” Pidge sighs. She digs a small wad of cash from her pocket and I match her frown.

“Money?”

“What? He’s a simple guy. Money is money. Who doesn’t want money?”

I take the offered bills and stash them in my pocket. “I’ll try, but I don’t think it’ll be that easy. He’s not usually so straightforward.”

“Cool, well while you do that, it’s my turn to spend some time with Keith.”

Keith shifts a bit in his seat, clearly worried he’s in for more poking and prodding, but she quickly follows this up with, “It’s time we find out how good mermen are at Mario Kart.”

The rest of breakfast is slow and leisurely. I can tell the others are enjoying this time just as I am. We don’t usually get to have time to ourselves in the morning like this. Usually by now we’re already elbow deep in our own separate work at the Garrison. It’s nice to sit back with good company and listen to the birds sing outside.

It sets as a stark contrast in mood when we’ve finished eating, I’ve redressed Keith’s wounds, and there’s no reason for me to keep stalling. I am very jealous when Pidge breaks out the controllers and begins explaining the game to Keith as I collect my car keys and some cash of my own to up the bribe and start to head out. I am so dreading this.

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“And to what do I owe this interruption,” Lotor asks, tying his hair back into bun so it’s out of his way while he works.

Getting into the Garrison was easier than I expected it to be. For a facility ‘locked down’ they’re not exactly air tight. The guards at the main doors were easily persuaded since the most valuable project of the Garrison was currently not at the Garrison. They almost seemed bitter that everyone else got to stay home while they were required to continue their duties. I gave some excuse about getting things I’d forgotten in my locker and took a detour to the side of the facility that is more offices and labs than aquarium tanks.

As it turns out, Lotor was not in the records room, but in a lab room studying shark’s teeth of all things. It seems fitting I suppose.

“I was wondering if you could tell me where I could find Pike. His address, company, and contact information have to be on file.”

He barely spares me a glance and I brace for what I know is coming.

“Why should I,” he says, as if reading a script. He carefully replaces one tooth to its padded case and takes out another.

I pull the cash from my pocket, “I was hoping because I asked nicely, but if you need more incentive…,”

“You think I want money,” he says in a bored tone. “How dull. And bold of you to assume I have access to such information. I work in the file room so infrequently.” His tone and demeanor tells me just how ‘unknowledgeable’ he is.

I sigh. This is what I was afraid of.

“Do you know how to find him or not?”

“I do,” he confirms with a small nod, taking down some notes.

“Did you tell the Garrison?”

“I told them what I could; basic information I retrieved from his file, but they won’t find him.” He peers sideways at me. “I think you could though.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“I will,” he says, turning fully toward me with a smile, but doesn’t continue.

“So…,”

“I’ll tell you how to find him IF you answer me three questions,” he illustrates his point on his fingers. “And you can keep you money. Deal?” 

“What are they,” I ask. His smile widens. 

“Deal?”

“Fine, yes, whatever. What do you want to know?”

“Firstly: Do you have the mer with you? There were rumors…,” I feel a little jolt of panic thinking maybe someone pieced it together. If the Garrison comes sniffing, it won’t take them long to find Keith. “No one knows he’s with you of course, only that you left with a half-naked boy,” Lotor says as if reading my thoughts. “They, however, are not me and I have my suspicions.”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Mmmmm, you just did,” he chuckles. “Secondly, what is his name?”

“Why would you want to know that?” I’m not sure why it feels wrong to reveal his name, but I suddenly want to hide away- a secret only I was graced to know.

“As I said, I have my suspicions,” Lotor continues. “It wouldn’t hurt anything to tell me. There’s no danger in a name.”

I hesitate, but respond reluctantly. “It’s Keith.”

He closes his eyes at my answer. His mouth forms a strange shape. I can’t tell if it’s a smile or frown. It occurs to me too late that I could and maybe should have lied about his name. Lotor wouldn’t have known the difference.

“I thought so,” he mutters quietly. Maybe he would know.

“What’s your third question,” I ask. I want to be done with this. Lotor has always been one to play games. It’s exhausting and somehow comes at the expense of others. I’ve always done my best to avoid him when I can.

I’m especially eager to leave when he turns his full focus to me, coming close and watching intently like he doesn’t want to miss something. “Do you remember him? Anything at all?”

I’m a little stunned for a moment because it had seemed strange at the time, but Keith had asked me that too. It seems more pressing now though, because this is the second time it’s come up. I don’t understand. How should I remember him? I never knew him previous to the Garrison, so why does this keep coming up? But Keith and now Lotor seem to be implying there should be more. And there just isn’t.

“Do you,” he presses and I don’t really know how to respond. I end up stuttering a non-answer and resolve to clamp my mouth firmly shut. It doesn’t seem to matter though because Lotor’s smile has crept back.

“Interesting,” he says, easing back and I’m at least glad to have some breathing room to myself again. “No memory of him at all. Was he really so unimportant to you? And he truly thought you loved him.” All of this is said with his back to me, more a thought spoken aloud than words meant for me, but I hear him and my mind is reeling.

“What are you talking about,” I demand, but he isn’t paying me much attention.

“Hey,” I grab his shoulder and turn him back to me. “What are you talking about?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“Because I’m asking you!”

“I’m sorry, but you came for a different set of information. I’ll tell you how to find Pike, but the rest I think I’ll keep to myself,” he says looking satisfied with himself. “Not unless you’re willing to pay for it. And I have little interest on your money.” This last bit is accompanied with an obvious case of elevator eyes and I cringe at his implication.

“Tell me what you meant,” I insist.

“You know my terms.”

“No.”

“Then no.”

I huff and force myself to take a breath and think of Keith. He needs Pike to find out what happened to his brother. “Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “Then tell me how to find Pike.”

“Well, that’s simple enough,” he says, turning back to his work. “You have what he wants. Just dangle Keith around a bit and he’ll find you. Haven’t you ever been fishing?”

“You said you’d tell me where to find him.”

“Wrong. I said I’d tell you how to find him. And you’ve got the perfect bait. That’s why the Garrison won’t get anywhere. As far as they’re concerned, Pike is in the wind.”

I turn to leave before I get myself even more worked up. Just as I reach the door I hear him call, “Do give Keith my regards.” I leave as quickly as I can, eager to be as far from the Garrison as possible. 

The whole drive back to the apartment, I can’t stop thinking about that question. Do I remember Keith? I search my mind for any memory of him as a mer or a human. But I don’t remember anything. I don’t know how or why, but I am sure that’s wrong. I did know him once. And I’m going to find out how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I ghosted you guys for a while. Half of family just moved across the country and I’ve been helping them pack. I miss them a lot and I sort of lost my motivation to write for a while, but I’m trying to get back at it so hopefully you won’t have to wait too long for future chapters. Hope you liked this one! Let me know what you think! I thrive on feedback.


	12. The Importance of People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance, Keith, and Pidge go to the park and Keith remembers something important.  
> This chapter starts out in Lance's POV and switches partway through to Keith's. The transition is indicated in the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It’s been a while since I last posted and I’m so sorry. Since my family moved away, I’ve kind of been struggling to adjust. I’m not used to being so cut off from everyone and it’s sort of left me in a rut. I’m trying to pull myself out of it. I want to say such long gaps between chapters won’t happen again, but I honestly can’t make promises. I will never abandon a fic though. Never. I do promise that. Thank you guys for being patient with me. I hope you like the chapter. <3

The scene I walk in on upon returning to the apartment is both hilarious and cute as hell because while I was gone and Hunk left to visit with Shay, Pidge and Keith have been battling it out via Mario Kart. When I open the door I find Pidge trying to work her controller while leaning over to knock Keith’s away. Keith has one foot braced against her shoulder to keep her at bay while hunching over his own controller, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“Hey, so I have some notes you can add to your report,” Pidge yells when she hears me drop my keys on the counter. “Mermen are total cheats at Mario Kart!”

“Am not,” Keith says, having to lay on his side to keep his foot a barrier between them when Pidge tries to jump and attack from above.

“Are too! You don’t fool me, you started out watching the wrong screen and now you’re suddenly beast? I call bullshit!”

I smile at their banter, glad things went well while I was gone, and settle in to watch them play. It’s the rainbow track and I do have to admit, Keith is doing suspiciously well. I don’t mean to, but I find my attention wandering from the screen, to the players, to Keith, and I think back to the developments of my trip.

And then a strange feeling comes over me, like I’ve been pulled back from the scene before me and am somehow cut off from it. My chest suddenly aches along with my temples.   
Mt thoughts are racing with colors and images, but they are all somehow blank- showing me brief flashes of meaningless moments long passed. It’s all senseless, there’s no significance to any memory coming to mind and I can sense that it’s wrong, but I can’t catch my breath enough to rationalize it.

It’s a bit jarring. Being here, seeing Keith again- it’s like knowing I’m missing memories has triggered something within myself and my mind is struggling and failing to recover what it’s lost. But just as before, I remember nothing of Keith from before the Garrison. I am getting a pretty intense headache though.

I tear my eyes away from Keith to try to dislodge the feeling and instead focus on my computer next to me. Keeping my attention elsewhere is helping ease the pulse in my skull. Slowly I get my breath back until I’m in the moment again, hearing Pidge let out a stream a cuss words and Keith laugh at her exasperation. I’m cautious of looking over again, so I keep my eyes fixed on my laptop until an idea comes to mind.

I scoop my computer into my lap, opening to my home screen and pulling up my photo files. One thing I’m notorious for, probably to a fault, is taking pictures at every opportunity. And people can’t be erased so easily. I refuse to believe that; there has to be evidence of them somewhere.

There are multiple files of phone downloads from over the years, each containing hundreds of pictures. This might not be as simple as I thought. So many memories are here on my screen. Pictures from over the years, some major moments- birthdays or holidays- but mostly just random shots of life- Hunk smiling up at the camera, a cookbook open on the messy countertop, Pidge grinning goofily from her nest of dissected electronics, selfies from days with no major importance at all- just smiles, silly faces, and ridiculous poses.

But no Keith. I’m not sure how far back to check. It doesn’t seem to matter though because of all the faces to cross my screen, none have the quiet smile or deep, dark eyes of the boy I’ve come to know. 

My search only falters when a new face begins cropping up the farther back I go- a face I haven’t seen in a long time. I glance up at Pidge, who has slowly migrated closer to the TV as she plays as though that will help her in the game. It’s never struck me how much she’s come to look like him as she got older, especially now that her hair is shorter. The glasses help too I suppose.

I can’t help thinking Matt would be proud of the person she’s become. As prickly as she tries to appear, Pidge has always been a good friend, fiercely loyal; helping and defending those closest to her, clinging to them like she’ll lose them too. Losing her brother had nearly broken her. She had looked for any conceivable way he could be alive, out there somewhere, missing but not lost forever.

It was nearly a year before she had to finally accept that he was gone. It had taken a lot to pull her out the hole she’d fallen into. And though she’s gotten good at covering it up and pretending she’s fine, that hole is still there. She still misses him. We all do.

Keith’s triumphant shout and a groan of defeat from Pidge signals the end of the race and the end of that train of thought. I close the window on my laptop before Pidge can see it. I know she loves her brother, but seeing pictures of him still sends her into a pretty dark place and I really don’t want to trigger that. I try to plaster on a convincing smile as Pidge goes on to insist a rematch, but Keith has turned back to me, an expectant look on his face.

“So? Did he know anything?”

I shake myself, trying to pull out of my own head. “Uh, yeah. Sort of.”

“Sort of,” Pidge says, smiling despite her brutal defeat. “Sort of meaning…,”

“Meaning I didn’t need this,” I say handing Pidge back the cash she’d given me earlier, “And I didn’t exactly get an address or anything so direct. He basically said that Pike would be looking for Keith, so we just… use him to draw Pike out.”

“How helpful,” Pidge says flatly.

“I know.”

“So what,” Keith asks. “What do we do now?”

“We go somewhere public,” Pidge starts slowly. “Very public. Somewhere that would make us easy to pick out, easy to follow, but away from the Garrison, cause- duh: bad idea.”

“And we wait to draw him out,” Keith supplies.

“I don’t like dangling you out there like that,” I interject. I can’t be the only who thinks this is a bad plan. “He’s a Siren right? That’s what you called him. Isn’t he supposed to be dangerous?”

Keith bites his lip and sets his shoulders. “If there a chance- even a tiny one- that my brother is alive and he’s out there, I have to do whatever it takes to find him. And if he’s dead…,” he looks down at his feet, hiding behind his bangs before meeting my eyes again. “I have to know.”

He has a look on his face that I’ve seen on Pidge so many times when Matt disappeared. It’s lost and scared, determined and hopeful in a way that would seem naive to anyone who didn’t understand. Pidge understands. And I’ve come to understand. I can’t deny him this.

That’s how we ended up at the park, the sun hot and the wind strong as we walked the pathways. Kid’s laughter and the occasional barking dog help the light ambiance. It’s made tense though by Keith’s constant searching of the trees and the people, like Pike is going to pop up from behind the slide and attack us five minutes after pulling up.

“Keith, try to relax. We just got here-,”

“I told you Lance, Pike is dangerous. If the point of coming here is to draw him out, we have be ready for when he shows.”

“Well yeah, but this is a public space. Lots of witnesses... he wouldn’t attack us out here. He’d probably just follow- we could lead him elsewhere, confront him on our own terms. 

But not if he knows you’re onto him. Look, keep your guard up, but maybe try not to be so obvious about it?”  
Keith frowns. 

“Here-,” I cut across the grass to the ice cream cart and return with a fudge ice cream sundae for Pidge and snow cones for me and Keith. Pidge takes hers eagerly. Keith takes his snow cone, looking suspicious of it like its poisoned.

“It’s good, just try it.”

He squints at it, then bites into it like an apple.

“Oh, no wait,” I say too late. His face twists and he hisses through his teeth. “And that would be a brain freeze. Sorry, uh, you don’t bite it, you lick it.” I take a lick of mine to demonstrate, smiling to show that it’s not harmful.

Off to my side I hear Pidge mutter some sarcastic comment and I send a glare her way. She smiles back innocently. I try to play off her comment by sending Keith an awkward smile, but he’s wondered off with his snow cone to watch some kids play soccer and I hurry to catch up. When I do, he has this look of awe on his face- his eyes following the player’s footwork and lips stained from his snow cone’s flavoring.

I’m suddenly upset that I didn’t bring my soccer ball. If he’s impressed with their moves, he’d be blown out of the water if he saw mine. I make a mental note to bring it next time. We find a shady spot under the trees to watch the game and eat our treats, during which I keep reminding myself to be aware of who’s around. I never see anyone suspicious though and after a while I relax onto my elbows with my legs stretched out in the grass. It really is a nice day out.

Keith:

When the soccer game ends I’m a little disappointed. I don’t care so much who is on what team or the game itself, but I’m fascinated at the precision and speed they’re able to move. I feel like the true definition of ‘fish out of water’ in comparison. 

The shade has grown chilly so we decide to walk the sunny path until it arches to a bridge over a glittering pond. Pidge excitedly makes her way down to the water to test launch a little mechanical boat she and Hunk have been working on. Lance and I continue onto the little wooden bridge to watch.

Across the pond are rolling hills, where small crowds have gathered to watch whiskered dragon and bright butterfly kites dance. Gusting winds launch the kites into intricate loops and dips, the long tails trailing smoothly behind. 

I glance over at Lance and he’s watching the kites with squinted eyes and a soft smile. Something warm and fuzzy rears wildly in my chest. Before I can think on it too closely I blurt, “I’m grateful for all this you know.”

Lance raises his eyebrow at me and my next words are quieter with his full attention. “You’ve done a lot for me. You helped me escape, treated my wounds, gave me a place to stay, you’re helping me with this. It’s a lot, I know that, and…,” I’m so bad at this kind of thing. “I appreciate it.”  
Lance looks down at his hands on the railing, wringing them and biting his lip. 

“Keith,” he says, avoiding my eyes. “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,”

“I’m… the one responsible for your capture by the Garrison.”

“I know,” he looks at me surprised. “My memory from the lab is a bit- scattered, but I remember seeing you there.”

Lance is quiet for a while, but he looks like he’s smelled something rotten, then shakes his head, apparently not content to let me think that was the extent of his involvement.

“No, I mean, I’m the one who told the garrison about you. I’m the reason they knew where to find you in the first place.

“Oh.”

There is a long, drawn out pause, while we watch Pidge’s boat glide out into the middle of the pond.

“I regret it so much and I’m so sorry. I know you suffered and I can’t take it back and helping you isn’t going to ever make up for it-,”

“I’m glad you did.”

The look Lance sends me is one of great doubt and guilt so I go on, “I’m not saying I could have done without all the tests and isolation, but this is giving an opportunity for answers that I didn’t have before.” 

I smile to myself and avert my eyes back to the water. “And, I got to meet you- and them,” I tack on a little awkwardly at the end, nodding toward Pidge as she adjusts the controls for the boat to steer it under the bridge. We follow its voyage, arriving at the opposite railing as it appears again. But as I think about it, that line of thought seems right so I follow it. 

“I haven’t had a whole lot of people who would do so much to help me. Shiro has always been that person for me. It’s…,” I try to find the word, “nice,” I finish lamely. 

“No problem,” Lance says with that easy smile I’ve known so well. 

Though my time with them has been brief, the longer I spend with Lance and his friends, the more things come to me in little sparks of memory. They’ve mostly been small things; things that should seem insignificant, but those little things seem so important. I cling to every detail I get, however big or small.

And in this moment, a flash of something slips by. It’s warm and happy and it gives me pause. I hang onto it, trying to keep that feeling, but it’s turned sour. I suddenly find I can’t bring myself to look at Lance. This is more than a little detail. I glare down at the water, deciding to think on this later when Lance isn’t right beside me. But he senses my change in mood.

“Keith, you know how we stopped on the highway, and you asked if I remembered you?”

“No.”

“I know you do and no I still don’t, but I should, shouldn’t I.”

“No”

“You’re a bad liar,” He leans forward to try to catch me eye. I avoid it. “What do you remember?”

“Stop”

“Keith who are we to each other?”

“I said stop.”

“Why?”

I flounder for a response. “C-can we just forget it? I was never anyone to you before all this.”

I can feel his eyes on me and I try not to fidget until he looks down at the water. Pidge’s boat seems to have stalled and she’s fiddling with the controls to fix it.

“You know,” he says, “When my Abuelita died, my whole family grieved, especially us kids. She was really old and it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it hit us hard. It hit me hard. She told us stories and laughed at all my jokes. Even when they weren’t that funny. Her body was weak so she couldn’t move around a lot, but she always made the effort to come to games and graduations. She listened to us, even though we were just kids. She made us feel important.”

He pauses here to gather himself before continuing. “Over the years we all had to move on and live our lives, but none of has forgotten her. We keep her with us.”

He turns back toward me and looks at me carefully. “People are important. Even when they’re not around anymore. My Abuelita is still important to me. I’ll always keep her memory with me. And I hope someday I can make that kind of impact in someone’s life.”

He lets the silence stretch, waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what to say so I stay quiet.

“Keith,” he prompts again.

Still nothing.

“I don’t know how it happened or why I forgot,” he says. “But I want to know you. I want to know how I knew you before.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Would you just drop it?”

“No.”

Finally I turn to look him in the eye. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I-I can’t- I don’t-,” the words come out stuttered the more I try to talk and I have to just give up trying. I sigh in frustration.

“I want to leave,” I say. I feel drained. “Now.”

“Wha-,” Lance starts, but cuts himself off and bites his lip.

“This obviously isn’t working- we’re wasting our time h-,” just as I’ve turned toward the parking lot to leave, I see someone standing in the shade of the trees at the edge of the park. Their features are in shadow- I can’t quite make them out, but as I watch he turns and strolls away with a graceful stride- it’s inhuman.

I’m sprinting across the park before Lance can ask what’s wrong. I hear him calling for me. I ignore him- the man has slipped from my sight. I push myself faster to catch up. I round the corner of one of the rec buildings, stumbling over my feet in my haste, searching. There are people here filling their water bottles at the fountain, milling leisurely about, but I can’t find the man.

Turning myself in circles, trying to find him, I’m startled when a hand closes on my shoulder. I turn with my hands fisted, ready to fight the man off, but find a breathless Lance instead. Pidge is rounding the corner behind him, her glasses askew.

“Dude,” he pants. “What was that?”

I shrug out of his reach and continue to search, but there’s no sign of him.

“Keith!”

I turn at my name. They’re both looking at me for an explanation and I flounder for my words. “I saw, he was just here.”

“Pike?”

“You saw him,” Lance asks, now looking around too.

“I- I thought,” I squint in the sunlight. “I..,”

“Keith are you sure you saw him,” Pidge asks. I lick my lips, glancing around one last time, in hopes I catch a glimpse of him again, but when I turn to answer her I see the expectant look on her face. I know that if I said yes, she would believe me. They both would. But now I’m starting to doubt myself. My hopes have put images in my head; assigned meaning to something that meant nothing- just a man enjoying his day in the park. I don’t know what to think and more than ever, I just want to leave.  
Lance must see the defeat on my face because he moves forward again, patting my uninjured shoulder reassuringly.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “Don’t worry. He’ll show up.”

I swallow a lump in my throat, letting my eyes settle on my borrowed shoes, embarrassed and dejected. “C-can we go? Please?”

“Yeah…yeah, come on,” Lance’s hand moves to my back to guide me back toward the parking lot, Pidge running to retrieve her boat she’d abandoned in her rush to catch up to us.

No one says anything as we file into the car and pull out onto the street, leaving the bright color and sounds of the park behind. As we stop at the corner light, I allow myself one last glimpse of it. 

I scan the jungle gym and hills where the kites continue their tight loops and sweeping turned. The light turns green, the car starts to move, and for a second I’m convinced I glimpse a shape among the trees that looks more like a person than foliage, but I look away.

I can’t afford to let myself give into the hope that it could be that easy. It was just a man in the park, just a tree on the corner. It does myself and Shiro no good to think otherwise, when ultimately it leaves me chasing shadows.

By the time we get back to the apartment, everyone seems strung out and ready to turn in for the night. Pidge says a quick goodbye before splitting off to her own apartment and Lance and I continue quietly inside.

The muscles in my shoulder and back ache, pulsing hotly. Lance has been fidgeting with his hands and glancing my way anxiously the whole way up the stairs- picking up on my discomfort despite my attempts to hide it and eager to redress my wounds. He suggests I shower first though, and shows me how to adjust the water before leaving me to my thoughts. I strip off the clothes Lance lent me along with the old bandages he applied and it’s hard not to think of him or the conversation we had on the bridge.

So he knows there’s something missing. I thought I’d be happy at that, but I find that I’m not. I can’t be because before things went totally sour, the warmth of the park and in Lance’s smile brought back wisps of memory- moments, or impressions more like. His hand in mine, walking side by side, a kiss in the sun. We weren’t just friends before all this. We were- I shake away the thought. 

It’s better for lance to forget. If I told him about any of this, I don’t know how he would react. Maybe he would pull away from me, uncomfortable with intimacy he didn’t remember. Or maybe he wouldn’t and we could try to go back to the way things were.

But what if his heart isn’t really in it? If he doesn’t feel the same way- just goes along with it, maybe hoping to kick start old feelings or trip up a forgotten memory- but it wasn’t real to him. If he felt obligated because I remembered something he didn’t. I don’t know that I could put myself through that.

And then I think of the way Lance insisted I tell him- that people are too important to leave behind, even in memory. I’ve never thought of myself like that. That I could be so significant. Maybe to Shiro, but beyond that, I just can’t see myself making that much of an impression on someone. To think that I even could is almost too overwhelming to fathom. It’s scary. No. It’s better this way. I resolve myself to this. I will never tell Lance who we were to each other. I can’t ever tell him who he was to me; we can never have that again and I can’t pretend otherwise.

I stand under the spray, thinking over the rest of today. My stomach twists with that familiar anxiousness. With every moment that passes, I can feel Shiro slipping farther and farther away. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch, picking at me every minute that goes by with no answers.

Today wasn’t a waste. I try to tell myself that. Pike didn’t show, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. Right? Another wave of anxiety crashes over when I think of the possibility that Pike never shows, he’s gone, and I’m just wasting my time here on land, meanwhile Shiro fades away. 

A bizarre feeling constricts my chest and I realize my trail of thoughts has left me short of breath and my gills are opening at my throat to try to pull in more oxygen. I have to brace my hand against the tile wall and will myself to relax before my fins start coming in. There is no room in this tub to go full on mer right now.

It’s gotten easier to maintain my legs; I don’t have to concentrate as much to will my gills to close and my skin to remain scale free. The next few minutes are spent willing myself to stay calm. This plan will work. I just need patience; Shiro’s advice rings in my head. I actually find myself smiling at that.

When I think I’m clean, I towel myself dry and dress in the rocket ship pajama bottoms Lance gave me. Lance is waiting for me in his room and I sit so he can apply new bandages. His hands are gentle and his demeanor calm.

A quiet part of me wants to lean into his touch, even though there’s nothing intimate in it. I look away in hopes he doesn’t see me blush, scolding myself for it being there at all. That quiet part assures that he is the reason today wasn’t a waste. Pike may not have shown, but I got to spend time with Lance, however awkward things may have turned. Lance smiles at me as he finishes.

I say a quick thank you, fighting the urge to reach for his hand like I’ve seen in my dreams. Instead I turn to make my way to the living room, where Lance has laid out blankets and pillows on the couch for me. I glance back just before turning out of sight and see Lance scratching Blue’s chin, his eyes watching me leave. Not a waste at all, it whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the comments I’ve received on this fic. They’re super encouraging! Till next time- I will try to not to take so long with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so there we are. I don't really have a specific schedule for updates, but I promise I'll always update as soon as I finish the chapters. Anyway, I hope everyone is liking this so far. :)


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